


Life Debt

by Judayre



Series: A Gift of All My Days [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 00:36:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 26,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/656066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Judayre/pseuds/Judayre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gifts must be returned with something of equal value.  All Dwarves know that.  But how can you put a value on a life?  Bilbo didn't know what he was getting into when he ran to Thorin's defense against Azog.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Revelation

**Author's Note:**

> It has been years since I read the Hobbit, and when I started this I was on vacation. I consciously made the decision to play fast and loose with canon. In other words, things that I have missed, put out of order, or misinterpreted are entirely okay with me. I'm actually aware of some of them from reading other fic, but I think what I have together words, so I'm not all that concerned.
> 
> This started with a conversation with friends (don't they all?) and around 25,000 words later I decided to share it with others because I rather like how it came out. The whole thing is written, and I am working on the second (or third) edit before I upload.

Bilbo Baggins, for all that his mother was a Took – and the daughter of Old Took, at that! - for all that he had led a somewhat wild youth, had taken after his father in maturity. In the time leading up to his father’s death, he had become a proper Baggins, a credit to his name and family. He was calm, steady, and unfailingly polite. When his mother followed only eight years later, he remained so, continuing his routine without tears.

“Mustn’t grumble,” he had told all who expressed condolences and amazement at his lack of public grieving. “After all, Bag End won’t look after itself.”

In the six years since, he had settled into a quiet lifestyle that called a night before a warm fire with a good book more to be looked forward to than any adventures or affairs.

He was as shocked to find himself chasing a band of Dwarves one morning as any of his neighbors. For a Hobbit so set in his habits to leave home in that kind of rush - he had completely forgotten to lock the doors, and it would be a wonder if any of his spoons were still there when he returned – well, it just wasn’t done. And for Bilbo Baggins, something being deemed not done meant that he never did it. And yet, since that time, he had done so many things that he would never have thought of in the days before.

He had gone without second breakfast – indeed, many days without even a midday dinner. He had slept on the hard ground, ridden a pony, used a scrap of cloth as a handkerchief. And certainly the Dwarves didn’t think anything of continuing to travel in the rain, when any good Hobbit would be indoors and glad of a roof over his head.

He had tried to pickpocket a knife from a Troll's belt. He had then talked to the Trolls about worms in his companions' tubes. And if there was anything that was the opposite of good propriety, that was it. Worms in tubes indeed! The idea that he’d even had to come up with such an outrageous idea!

He'd spent a night with Elves. He had survived sneaking away from Orcs. And through it all, he had mostly managed to keep his cool. Even when he had drawn his sword on that Gollum creature, he had only been exercising good sense. He hadn’t actually used the thing.

He had killed. He had personally saved a life. And he didn’t know when these Dwarves had turned him into a being of such convictions that he could follow through on such a thing.

He had simply thought in that moment that a world without Thorin Oakenshield was not to be had, and that had been his last thought as he had blindly raced to the prince's defense against the sword that was about to defile his body. And now, perhaps, the fact that a good book had held more interest for him than a pretty pair of legs and low cut blouse made more sense.

But then, Thorin's response. For one heart stopping moment he had thought that everything was for nothing. That he was still just a nuisance and his intentions meant nothing. That these feelings he didn’t understand meant nothing. But in the strong arms surrounding him, he had had a revelation.

This was a thing that he desired.

Thorin was strong and passionate, this he knew. The leader of the exiled Dwarves of Erebor held himself to a higher standard than any other and tried to remain aloof and self contained, but every move, every glance he gave to his people, showed the depth of his love and commitment to them. Bilbo had wanted some of that to turn his way from before he could admit to wanting the adventure. The reproof he shared with all the others, but the affection was never his and he craved it.

What he had learned in that embrace was that Thorin was also weak. He had nearly been killed, they had seen that he was mortal and fallible as any of the rest of them. He had been picked up and shaken by a warg, thrown to the ground, nearly beheaded, carried in the claws of a giant eagle. And his arms had shaken from the pain, humiliation, and fear.

And Bilbo found that he craved that too.

He had separated himself from the group a bit as they stopped to camp. It was dark already, because Thorin never let others see his weakness and wouldn't slow their pace for his own discomfort. While others started the fires and cooked their evening meal, Bilbo stared out into the darkness from the edge of their camp, trying to piece together what it all meant.

He wasn’t at all surprised when he was joined. Any Dwarf was loud enough for him to hear over the food preparation behind him, let alone his own thoughts. He looked up, expecting Bofur or possibly Fili to have come to get him to join them.

The Dwarf filling his thoughts sat at his side, and Bilbo could do nothing but goggle at him in unBagginslike astonishment.

Thorin also looked off into the darkness. He was silent for a long moment, and when he spoke it was in low, measured tones. “Gandalf was right to recommend you join us, Mr. Baggins. Were it not for you, my life and quest would be forfeit.”

Bilbo looked away in shame, remembering his own half formed thoughts. “Anyone would have done it,” he mumbled, seeking to deflect further thanks.

“No,” Thorin answered, voice so swift that Bilbo turned back to look at him again. “Anyone would not have. No Dwarf in this company would have.”

“But they all love and respect you!” Bilbo protested. “They would do anything for you!”

“And it is precisely that respect that would have kept them from coming as you did. You, as a Halfling, have no understanding of Dwarf customs. You are the only one of the company who does not. As much as they love me - because they love me - no other would jump to my defense and take the life debt owed.”

“Life debt?” Bilbo repeated the words slowly, not sure he completely understood, but wanting to.

Thorin nodded, eyes darting to the Hobbit’s face briefly. “Life debt,” he repeated. “A gift must always be repaid with a gift of like value. How can one repay another for the gift of life? What value can you put on a life? The only proper repayment is to give the life to the savior.”

“Give the-- I don’t want your life!”

“Whether you do or not, by my own customs and laws, it is now yours. What you want to ask of me I will give you.”

“Something given against your will means nothing!” Bilbo protested, a sense of horror creeping into his voice.

Again, Thorin glanced at him, this time one brow rising wryly. “Within reason should have been understood. Though I’m not sure how much reason and Halflings hold discourse. What would you ask me that you expect I would be unwilling to perform?”

Bilbo flushed, looking away again as his thoughts once again caught up with him. “I-- I am not the naive innocent you think I am,” he murmured. “I might want things that you would hate....”

This turned Thorin’s gaze sharply in his direction, and Bilbo ducked his head, hiding his face against his knees.

“I had thought them making up fancies as they always do,” Thorin said after a moment, voice a strange mix of resignation and laughter. “When my nephews told me of how you looked at me.”

He leaned in closer. Bilbo could feel the other’s heat and presence without looking up, and he reddened to the tips of his ears.

“Why would you think me unwilling?”

Bilbo looked up, eyes wide, and all words died as he met the searing, curious gaze of the exiled Prince of Erebor. They were frozen there for a long moment, something moving between them.

“Even if it’s not what they think it is?” Bilbo finally asked, forcing his eyes away, still ashamed of what he had finally discovered within himself.

“Then what is it that you want?” Thorin persisted, quietly commanding.

Even still, it took Bilbo a long moment to answer. “You,” he said, voice intimate for just the two of them. “Everything that is you. To belong to me....” His voice trailed off and he shook his head. “It can’t. I know that! I do! You-- you have a quest. And a kingdom. And a family. You can’t....” His voice lowered again. “You can’t be mine.”

“I am.”

Bilbo finally looked up again, eyes blazing with anger and frustration. “I will not take you because of a debt you feel you owe me! I didn’t save your life because I wanted you to ignore everything you feel to take care of me!”

Once again, he was drowning in the Dwarf’s eyes.

“I said within reason,” Thorin told him, voice unnaturally mild and patient. “I would not give up my kingdom, and I would not expect you to ask that of me. But now that I see you clearly, I might be willing to give up my self.”

Bilbo's eyes widened. "Thorin, I--"

Thorin quieted him, calloused fingers gentle on his lips. " _Within reason_ , this life belongs to you, my savior. This gives you status among Dwarves the equal of my own. Remember this and act accordingly. Everything I have is yours. Allow me to fulfill your wishes."

This was apparently his final word on the subject, because he rose and walked away. Bilbo raised a hand to touch the place Thorin's fingers had just been touching. His lips tingled from the contact, and he found that he now had much more to consider.


	2. Courting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bilbo worries about duty vs. desire and decides to make an experiment.

It felt, the next morning, as if they were courting. Thorin woke Bilbo personally, shaking him gently and bringing breakfast. Bilbo rubbed his eyes. He had spent much of the night awake, and was thus the last to awaken in the morning. Thorin had brought his own breakfast as well, and Bilbo smiled at him, assuming that they were going to eat together. When Thorin offered his share, Bilbo glared at him and roundly refused. If they were to be their best, they all needed to eat, the leader more than the rest. 

He crossed his arms and sulked up at Thorin. Didn’t the leader of the Dwarves think he was good for anything? He was prepared, after that outburst, for Thorin to be annoyed with him and leave. He wasn’t ready for Thorin to be pleased, and give him an approving half-smile. Bilbo's heart fluttered, as he recognized the expression he had longed to see directed at him. He stopped sulking and began to nibble his breakfast. Thorin stayed next to him, eating the gift that had been refused. Bilbo caught encouraging smiles from Fili and Kili, and Bofur went so far as to wink at him.

When they packed their things, he found that Thorin was ahead of him and had packed Bilbo's bag better than the Hobbit could do on his own. Thorin also helped him shoulder it before accepting his own pack from his nephews. He looked at Bilbo with the tiniest smile before calling everyone together and heading out.

When Bilbo started to fall in next to Bofur at the rear, the Dwarf hissed at him.

"You're wanted up front."

"I'm what?" Bilbo asked incredulously, before remembering Thorin's words from the previous evening. His brows drew down and he looked at Bofur. "I really share his status now?"

Bofur nodded and waved him toward the front, winking at him again before he was gone. The other Dwarves acknowledged him as he moved through them to the front where Gandalf and Thorin were talking about something he couldn't hear.

Thorin nodded at him with unsurprised satisfaction when he neared and asked what he thought the weather would be like that day. Bilbo was unprepared for the question and stammered out his answer that he thought the signs pointed to a clear, hot, late summer's day. He was equally unprepared for Thorin to solicit his advice on path choices and when they should break. 

He couldn’t help but blush a bit at the attention. Thorin was grave and courteous when he was addressing Bilbo, and the Hobbit felt truly needed and appreciated. The fact of the life debt stayed in the back of his mind. The life debt was why Thorin was acting as he was. The life debt was the reason Bilbo was helping to lead them.

Although, Thorin and Gandalf were clearly the ones in the lead. It took Bilbo longer to realize the reason Thorin often seemed to be walking right in front of him than it had to notice that he seemed to always be there to brush aside low hanging branches for him. But he remembered what the others had said about the difficulty blazing new trails, and his cheeks warmed with understanding. Thorin was compacting the path to make it easier to walk.

But even still, it was all what was perceived as his duty. His duty to his savior. Bilbo had never been called a savior before, and even as he resolutely put his half formed desires aside because he refused to put them on Thorin unwanted, it still made him glow a little with the acceptance inherent in it.

They stopped at midday for a rest and a bite of cold dinner. This time, Thorin didn't offer to give his share to Bilbo, although he stood near him while eating. It was disconcerting, because he was silent. Where everyone else was chatting and joking as they ate, Thorin was as grave and courteous as ever, and Bilbo didn’t know what to do about it. It took Fili and Kili making faces at him, and Bofur covering a laugh and winking to keep him from seeking friendlier company.

After they had finished, Thorin asked Bilbo to see to the wounds he had gotten the previous day. There was an indrawn breath from behind them, and Bilbo didn't need it to know that Thorin letting another see him vulnerable was rare to the extreme. He led the Dwarf prince away from the others for privacy before helping him strip off his coat, mail, and shirt.

His ribs were a mass of bruising, and Bilbo hissed in empathetic pain as he ran gentle fingers over them. He knew that he had salve in his pack, and swung it off his shoulders, ready to rummage all the way to the bottom - to empty the thing if need be. It was right on top, and Bilbo couldn't help remembering that Thorin had been the one to pack it that morning.

"We really should stop and rest," he said, spreading the salve over the bruises. He wanted to lean down and kiss them better like his mother had when he had been young. "You need time to heal."

"That is not a reasonable request, Burglar," Thorin answered, voice exasperated but fond. "I am able to travel, and we have a deadline."

"But you need to heal!" Bilbo repeated, fingers digging in slightly and causing a slight wince in his patient. "Don't you understand that you're the heart of this group? If you fall, Thorin...."

"I will not," Thorin assured him, turning and taking Bilbo's hands in his own. "Help me redress so we can go."

Bilbo reluctantly did as he had been bid, fretting over the fall of layers of cloth, metal, and leather over the wounded side. Thorin endured it with a wry look in his eyes, thanking him politely when he was finished and then calling for the others to fall in so they could resume their march.

Bilbo had the afternoon to watch Thorin and think. Exasperated affection was hard to feign, and Thorin was not the kind to feign emotion in the first place. It was encouraging to Bilbo that this was an emotion directed at him. Perhaps it wasn’t just the life debt after all, if there was affection in Thorin’s eyes when he looked at Bilbo. That Thorin allowed himself to be weak with the Hobbit was a thing that gave him hope and made him vow to test limits that very day.

Sooner than he'd expected, they stopped for the night. It was still light, and everyone seemed confused. Thinking about it and deciding that it was a concession to his own desire to stop early, Bilbo gave a private smile to Thorin, who pretended not to see it. He handed out evening tasks, and called Bilbo to come with him as he checked their perimeter.

And so, as he followed, Bilbo took all his courage in hand, stood on his toes, and pressed his lips to Thorin's. The Dwarf's beard was scratchy against his cheeks, and strong arms circled him as his kiss was answered in kind. When they pulled back, Bilbo's gaze was met with matching heat, and Thorin dipped his head down for another.

"Can we sleep next to each other?" Bilbo asked, fingers tight in the front of Thorin's coat to hold him close. "I want to be near if you need me."

"Why would I need you in the night?" Thorin asked, and the huskiness in his voice nearly made Bilbo kiss him again rather than answer.

"You have nightmares sometimes. Many of you do. The closer we get to Erebor, the more frequent they are. I want to be the one to soothe them."

Thorin quirked a brow at him. "And how do you know of this when you should be asleep yourself?"

Bilbo flushed slightly at that, but refused to say that sometimes it was because he purposely stayed awake at night. If he could not guard their sleep, at least he could be a silent witness to their distress. Instead, he kept his grip firm and looked the Dwarf square in the eyes. "Can we?" he asked. "Is that reasonable?"

"Next to each other? Quite reasonable," came the answer, with an expression that promised so much that Bilbo quickly remembered that he needed to learn a lot of things in a very short amount of time.

The quest being what it was - the journey being what it was - there was no time for long courtship. But this evening, while he was still ignorant, he would content himself with kisses, freely given.

And when they lay their bedrolls next to each other, Bilbo lay curled facing Thorin and reached out one hand. It was folded into a large, rough one, and Bilbo smiled as he closed his eyes.

That night, Thorin had no nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely sure how to classify the relationship status here. They come to an understanding very early on, so it's not really a slow burn, but nothing much more than kissing happens for about half the story. So they... Um... Take it slow quickly?


	3. A Short Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I which I don't remember much about the stay at Beorn's. But there is Radagast, Fili and Kili being goofballs, and cuteness. So that makes up for it, right?

In the morning, Bilbo was woken by the scratchy feel of a beard, and Thorin's mouth over his own. He smiled up at the Dwarf, mind still hazed with sleep.

"You start the breakfast," Thorin said, not returning the smile. "I'll wake the others."

Bilbo had always been the last to wake, and watching the others made him smile more, even when Bombur pointed out that he was about to put salt into the tea instead of sugar. He snatched his hand back quickly, looking at the pot in horror and endured the roar of laughter that came from the rest of the company with as good a grace as he could. Not even Thorin's repressive presence could stop the levity, and it followed Bilbo through the morning's hike until Radagast found them again and drew Gandalf aside.

Thorin was watching them impatiently, so Bilbo slipped away to where the other Dwarves were. Both Fili and Kili slapped him on the back, leaning against his shoulders as he eased himself among them.

“Did we thank you for saving him yet?” Fili asked, bending his fair head to whisper the question into Bilbo’s ear and not disturb his uncle.

Bilbo shook his head and looked up between them. “But I didn’t ask for thanks. Not from any of you.”

Kili grinned at him, one arm slipping around his shoulders to give him a squeeze. “That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t thank you, though,” he answered. “And we do, Master Baggins, most humbly.”

Bilbo snorted, sure that neither of them had ever done anything humbly in their lives. Kili caught the edge of his disbelieving glance and snickered, leaning in on his shoulder again. Bilbo was strangely pleased by the contact.

It was a good quarter hour before Gandalf waved Thorin forward, and both of them looked for Bilbo before they started talking. Bilbo raced forward at the impatience in Thorin's face. As the only one not looking at himself, he saw the look of interest and curiosity in Radagast's eyes, followed by a kind of understanding that made him pull slightly behind Thorin to escape it.

"There is business I must attend to for the White Council," Gandalf said. "And I would not have you enter Mirkwood just yet." He held up a hand, forestalling Thorin's rage, and Bilbo slipped his fingers into Thorin's to try and quiet him. "Radagast has a friend near here who will be able to lodge you safely for a few nights. You can rest and recover, and enter the forest with newly filled provisions."

"You do need to rest," Bilbo whispered. "It is reasonable."

Thorin turned, expression stormy, and Bilbo girded himself to look the Dwarf in the eye.

"Fine," Thorin exclaimed after a moment. "If no other is conscious of our deadline, I am. You have two nights, wizard, and then I move out, whether you have returned or not."

"It shouldn't take that long," Gandalf assured, glancing down to where Bilbo's fingers were still wrapped around Thorin's. "I'm sure I will be done by then."

Radagast didn't seem so sure, but he just led the way in his strange, rabbit pulled sledge. "Do not mention hunting animals to Beorn," he warned as they approached the house. "You do not want to see him angry. Let me talk to him and open the way. He is not easily friendly, but he tolerates me."

Thorin looked at Gandalf. "A friend who will give us safe lodging?" he asked archly. "I'm starting to think that two nights is generous."

"Two nights," Gandalf said firmly. "I do not think that you want to enter the forest on your own, Master Oakenshield."

Thorin left his hand in Bilbo’s until they arrived at the enormous home of Beorn, the skin-changer. He greeted their host with as good grace as he could muster, then walked away without a word to anyone. He was gone before the wizards were.

Bilbo looked after the wizards until they were out of sight. When he turned, the Dwarves had split up into the room, doing their own individual exploring. He glanced around, seeing how close they all were, and his eyes stopped on Dwalin. The old warrior had already gotten himself a mug of mead and a bench in a corner, and was drinking and looking around with a critical eye.

He had decided to ask Dwalin for advice. As a warrior, he would be more likely to know the things Bilbo needed - assuming the stories Bilbo had always heard about warriors were true. Also, he knew that Dwalin had a low opinion of him already. He valued Balin's good opinion too much to risk, but there was nothing to lose from Dwalin. Taking a flagon of Beorn's excellent mead for courage, he turned to the corner where Dwalin was sitting alone.

The bald Dwarf looked up at Bilbo's approach, then grinned devilishly at his stammered request for information. Bilbo flushed at the grin, knowing that any assumptions being made were probably wrong, but too self conscious about the whole thing to try correcting them.

A half hour later, Bilbo moved away from the Dwarf's leer, face beet red. He was far more knowledgeable - more than he had wanted to be! - and had grave doubts that anything Dwalin had told him would be considered reasonable. He didn't think he would consider it reasonable if anyone wanted to try it on him, and it had to be so much less so for a proud, royal Dwarf.

He went into the garden and splashed water on his face, trying to get it to not be so red. He had to put the instruction out of his mind. Everyone would know what he was thinking if he didn’t, and that would embarrass both him and Thorin. He shuddered to think what Thorin’s reaction would be.

He was helped by the timely appearance of Bofur. The jokester was poking around the garden and asked Bilbo to accompany him. They spent over an hour exploring, looking at the bees and the crops. Bombur joined them while they were talking about herbs and spicing, and Bofur made a joke about his brother hearing anything that had to do with food. Bilbo laughed at that, and though Bombur huffed in annoyance, his eyes were twinkling at the same time.

Together, the three of them left the garden and started looking for food. The whole company was hungry, and they had very little left of their supplies after the Goblins and Azog. Bilbo and Bombur discussed what they would be able to store and eat cold, still comparing the herbs they used and cooking styles they favored. Bofur was less interested, and followed them, piping a cheerful tune that Bilbo thought had to be related to the one they had teased him with back at Bag End. The sparkle in the Dwarf’s eyes confirmed it.

Having cobbled together a nice dinner, with the aid of Beorn’s animal servants, they called the group together. It didn’t last long, as everyone wanted to go back to their personal occupations for the afternoon. They had been forced into relying on one another, and a bit of time to themselves was appreciated all around.

Bilbo smiled around at the group from his high seat by the table. With Thorin’s acceptance, he was really feeling like part of the group. Certainly, many of them had been friendly enough, but with Thorin’s words came a flush of camaraderie that he hadn’t felt before.

He silently counted the Dwarves, making sure that they were all in close enough range that he would know if something happened. His breath and count stopped when he saw Kili literally climbing the wall, his brother not far behind.

Bilbo leapt out of his seat and scurried over to the wall under them. “What are you doing?” he demanded.

Kili grinned down at him, cheerful and charming. “We want a good look at this house, Master Burglar!” he answered. “Nowhere better to go than up!”

Bilbo sputtered, and spent the greater part of the afternoon trying to talk them down to a less dangerous position. They laughed at him, perched on high shelves, and told him they were quite safe. Kili demonstrated by hanging off the shelf, swinging himself one way and then the other, laughing unrestrainedly as Bilbo wrung his hands on the floor and implored him to be careful.

By the time supper was served, his voice was hoarse from pleading. The young Dwarves dropped down to either side of him, showing themselves off to prove their safety. Bilbo gripped their arms and let them see the worry in his eyes. They looked embarrassed by it, but promised that they wouldn’t climb that high again.

He counted again at the table for supper, and frowned when he only counted twelve. Someone was missing, and it took him a long moment to realize that he hadn't seen Thorin since arriving. Deciding that it was best if he was the one to find him, he moved silently away from the others. Eventually, he found the other outside, sitting at the edge of the gardens, facing east. Thorin turned to look at him, and there was so much of pride and despair in his eyes that it took Bilbo's breath away.

Nothing of his earlier hopes or fears were in his mind when Bilbo lowered himself into Thorin's arms. All he wanted was to kiss away all of the Dwarf's pain. He held Thorin's cheeks in his hands, the prickle of beard letting him know that it was all real as he pressed his lips to Thorin's cheeks, eyes, and finally lips. Strong arms tightened around him as Thorin kissed back fiercely.

Sometime in the night, wrapped in each other's arms, they both fell asleep.

Facing east.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin's chat with Bilbo can be found here:
> 
> https://docs.google.com/document/d/1brm_YQ0COsrwOlsu-Sq6XtGahC8GEDvOEitSaIgVBkc/edit
> 
> Friend who helped come up with the idea in the first place wrote it. Poor Bilbo. XD


	4. Taking Charge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things that need to be done are done, and Kili is a trouble making pest.

It was the deepest and most comfortable sleep that Bilbo had had since leaving Bag End, so it took three progressively rougher shakes to wake him out of it. When he blinked his eyes blearily open, it was to Kili's widest grin. That was strange. Thorin had been waking him the past few days...

His eyes shot open, and Kili snickered.

Fili was behind his brother, smile irrepressible, and several other Dwarves were farther off, faces showing varying levels of amusement. Bilbo blushed red, but leaned forward to Kili, voice low.

"Let me wake him."

"Why of course, uncle," Kili said, voice low and grave, eyes twinkling with mirth.

"What..? Never mind. Go somewhere he won't see you."

When they were alone, Bilbo shifted in Thorin's arms. Still around him in the morning - that made him blush for an entirely different reason. He placed a hand to the Dwarf's cheek and nuzzled in for a kiss. "It's morning, Thorin. Wake up."

There was no response, so he patted the cheek and kissed again. "Wake up," he insisted.

Thorin's arms tightened. "No," he said, voice clear and awake.

Blushing for a third time in as many minutes, Bilbo pushed him away. "Then I won't save you any breakfast!" he exclaimed. He had to wriggle out of Thorin's strong hold, and by the time he had freed himself the Dwarf's eyes were open and on him. It took more will than he knew he had to turn and walk away rather than burying himself once again in the other’s arms.

He munched his breakfast quietly, watching in vain for Thorin to make his appearance. Surely he would want to prepare them for leaving the next day? He was the one who had given the ultimatum. He had spent all of the previous day sulking, or whatever he had been doing out there in the garden. Surely he would be able to put that behind him and tend to the needs of his people? 

Apparently not, as he didn’t show himself at all. Bilbo finished his breakfast and let out a slow breath. He had been told that he shared Thorin’s status now, because of this whole life debt business. He supposed that meant it was up to him to get them to prepare. But what would they need? He looked around the room while he tried to remember everything that the others had carried when they left the Shire.

Bofur and Bombur knew all about where the food was because of their exploring the previous day. Dori and Oin would be able to clean the bedrolls and find replacements for the packs and clothes they had lost. Gloin and Dwalin were quite able to take care of their weapons or improvise new ones from the things Beorn had around his house. He trusted Balin and Nori to supervise everyone and think of anything he hadn’t.

He reminded all of them that they would be leaving in the morning, probably quite early. They all nodded to him, and he hoped that they would be able to find everything they needed quickly, since they had done nothing the previous day in the way of preparation.

He had doubts that they would be accompanied by their wizard. The expressions of both had been too uncertain at Thorin's time limit. They were up to some kind of huge business that Bilbo didn't think he wanted to know about. but in the meantime, the Dwarves' quest was being set aside as though it were of no importance. Without Gandalf, he neededto make himself certain of the path. So, last, he approached Fili and Kili.

"Could you ask Beorn if he has maps of the forest and the lands east?"

Kili swept him a mockingly deep bow. "Of course, uncle!"

Bilbo raised his brows. "All right, first you can explain that."

Fili dropped a hand on his brother's shoulder. "The entire line of Durin owes you a debt for saving our uncle," he said.

"No, thank you," Bilbo answered. "One Dwarf in my debt is enough. And what does that have to do with calling me uncle?"

Kili shot him a grin. "You have our uncle's status now," he started.

Fili took both the grin and the sentence. "So what should you be but our uncle?"

He knew they were teasing, but the word set off a deep longing in Bilbo. Both the Bagginses and the Tooks traditionally had large families, but he had always been an only child. And after the deaths of his parents, he had felt desperately alone. Compared to what he had seen of their interaction with Thorin, he had no kin. Even as a jest, it was an offer that tore at his heart.

Something of his feelings must have shown on his face, because the brothers shot each other serious looks. Fili leaned forward to clap a hand on Bilbo's shoulder.

"We'll get you those maps, uncle," he said softly.

Bilbo sat heavily, mind awhirl once again with all of the implications of the life debt Thorin owed him. When Fili and Kili returned triumphantly with maps, he pulled both of them down into a fierce hug, which they returned with what seemed to be almost embarrassed affection.

He left everyone to their own devices after that, poring over the maps and trying to commit them all to memory over the course of the morning. He stopped at midday for the excellent dinner that Beorn provided them. Thorin still wasn't present, so he took a share and went looking for their leader.

"Eat," he said, sitting at Thorin's side. He waited, thinking about everything that had happened between them in the last few days. When Thorin set the bowl aside, Bilbo shifted closer. "Let me know when I stop being reasonable," he murmured and pressed his lips to Thorin's in a gentle, chaste kiss.

When he moved back, Thorin growled darkly and pulled him close. Their mouths met again for a deeper, more passionate kiss that left Bilbo breathless and full of desire.

"I was getting to that," he protested.

"Not fast enough, Burglar," Thorin growled in reply, not letting go of him, and the fact that _Thorin was impatient for his kisses_ left Bilbo giddy.

"And is this all you were planning?" Thorin asked.

"No!" Bilbo exclaimed, thoughts going to what he had learned from Dwalin. He flushed, knowing that he would be unable to try even half of what he had learned. But he needed to start somewhere. He levered himself into Thorin's lap and lowered his mouth to the Dwarf's throat, kissing and biting up and down it.

Thorin hummed in approval, arms tightening to hold Bilbo where he was, head tilting to the side to give him more room.

Before Bilbo was done, the afternoon had faded into evening. Both were naked to the waist and breathless with spent desire. Bilbo, resting on top of Thorin, ran his hands over the other's chest, tracing the muscles of the forge and the sword, gentling his fingers over the bruises that were fading under the influence of his salve.

"All of that was reasonable?" he asked as his heartbeat slowed to normal.

Thorin rumbled a laugh under him, one hand running up the Hobbit's back to cup his head. "Quite reasonable," he answered.

The words and touch made Bilbo shiver and nestle close. "I'm glad. I don't want to upset you, Thorin."

"You haven't yet, Mr. Baggins," Thorin answered, pressing a kiss to Bilbo's hair.

They remained together until it was quite dark, then helped each other dress and rejoined the others, hand in hand. There were a few knowing smirks, but Thorin's dark looks quelled any comment.

"We leave in the morning," he announced. "Wizard or no. Make sure you're prepared."

Bofur winked at Bilbo. "Our burglar made sure we would be," he said, leaning back against the packed supplies.

Thorin turned to look at Bilbo with wonder and appreciation. Bilbo ducked his head, embarrassed at what was in Thorin's eyes. He had just been doing what needed to be done, after all. His hand was still in Thorin's when they retired for the night, and their rest was dreamless and sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frodo will not be born for another 30years or so, and he's the oldest of the Hobbits in LotR. Looking at family trees, all of the Baggins cousins listed are a good 20 years younger, and the Took cousins, while around his age, seem to all be starting families around this time. Bilbo is LONELY.
> 
> Also, there is obviously more than kissing going on here. I will leave how MUCH more to your imagination. Just remember that they still have their pants on.


	5. Into The Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which life sucks, and you can see that Mirkwood really kind of blurs for me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty short. Truth be told, I'm not sure how much I really care for it. But as transition it's kind of needed. Mostly to show how things aren't fun. Although I also left out at least one bit, but really! How much trouble to they need with what's coming?

The darkness of Mirkwood descended on them instantly, invading their minds almost as soon as it shaded their bodies. Even Bofur's habitual good cheer failed them, and those who were darker of nature in the best of times snarled and snapped at any word said to them.

Thorin did his best to be above all of it, but Bilbo could tell. Nothing he said was reasonable. Even the feel of hands holding was unreasonable. Bilbo had lost his own humor enough to snap back and insist that they stay to the path he had memorized off Beorn's maps, using the life debt when Thorin balked. It earned him a glare that should have felled him, and when he thought about it even an hour later, he hated himself for using it.

It made him hesitant when suggesting that they eat half rations. It was hard to know how long it would take them to wind through the forest in the best of times, and there were all kinds of dangers that even Beorn wouldn't know about. Half rations were only sensible. But not to Thorin, who seemed to think the suggestion meant that Bilbo didn't think the Dwarves could take care of themselves in a forest. And Bilbo was still too unhappy with himself to insist.

They had to stop before night, because it was too dark to see at all once the sun set. Bilbo could see that Thorin chafed at that, especially when building a fire proved next to useless. Nor could they hunt, since Bilbo insisted they stay close to the path. There were no animals to be seen from their path, and none of the plant life was edible.

In the dark, they had to stay close together in order to keep track of everyone. With the dark forest twisting their minds, any contact irritated, and the whole company was on edge from accidental touches. Bilbo and Thorin mutually kept apart. Fili and Kili were always between their two uncles, and when the whole group slept close enough to touch, one brother curled close to each of them, silent comfort that they all needed. The nightmares were in force, even those who didn't normally share them having interrupted sleep.

By the time they ran out of food a week later, Bilbo had long felt that the anger and unhappiness settled in his mind like a headache had always been there. Feelings of joy, the warmth of the sun, the pleasure of sharing kisses with Thorin were all dreams. Loved dreams he wished would come true, but no more connected to reality than fairy stories told to children.

They blundered along the path for another day before someone suggested that Bilbo - as the smallest and lightest - climb to the top of one of the trees and see how far they had left to go. Thorin looked as if he was going to argue, but Bilbo forestalled him with a gentle touch to the shoulder. They both twitched at the first touch they had shared in days.

"Boost me to the first branches," Bilbo ordered.

Visibly reining his temper in, struggling for his habitual self control, Thorin did as he was bid. Bilbo thanked him softly, looked down at the worried, pinched faces of the Dwarves from the lowest branch before turning his eyes up and climbing steadily into the forest's canopy.

The first breath of fresh air and afternoon sun blasted the misery from him. Bilbo clung to the top branches, eyes closed as he breathed in and out, drinking in the peace and pleasure of air. When he opened his eyes again, it was to look out at a sea of treetops all around him. He couldn't see the edge of the forest looking back toward Beorn's house. He couldn't see the edge when he turned toward their destination, nor in any other direction he turned. They were well and truly trapped in this miserable place, and how was he going to explain that to the others?

The voices from below had long since stopped when he began the slow descent back into Mirkwood. Bilbo was grateful to discover that the sense of doom and darkness didn't overcome him again. He didn't want to go there, but his mind was still his own when he finally dropped to the forest floor and found himself alone in the dimness of the nearing night.

"Thorin?" he called uncertainly. He turned, eyes getting used to the dimness again. "Fili? Kili!" One by one, he called all of his companions, but received no reply. Pushing away panic, he forced himself to be quiet and look around. And as he regained night eyes, he saw the light of a fire in the distance off the path; and in the quiet surrounding him, he heard both the bright, high voices singing in the distance and the crashes of the Dwarves blundering toward the light.

Hand to his sword, Bilbo didn't hesitate to leave the known path and race after them. The trees were close and dark, and he stumbled many times, but with the light and sound ahead of him he knew which way to run, still calling their names. They must all have been singleminded in their pursuit because there was no response from any.

He was within sight when the first of them stumbled into the circle of firelight. The sound of singing elves was instantly silenced, and in a moment the fire was out and they were all left in the dark. Then he heard their voices, shouting names, trying to keep from getting separated. His own joined them, but trying to figure out where they were in the dark by sound was impossible. All he knew was that they were growing fainter, and finally were not to be heard at all.

Alone in the forest, Bilbo pressed his back to a tree trunk and huddled a wakeful night, ears and eyes straining after his companions. When morning came, there would be enough light to search. Until then, he shivered. He had never felt so alone.


	6. Spiders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bilbo saves the lives of everyone in the company. But don't worry. He's considered one of their leaders now, so they don't owe him life debts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I'm not good at writing fighting. But here are giant, talking spiders. They don't get much of a chance to talk, though. Bilbo kills them.

It took time to realize that there was enough light to see by. Once he was certain he could follow a trail, Bilbo stood and left the relative safety of his tree. Calling every name in the company, he walked slowly from tree to tree, blazing a mark at eye level as he went.

He paused at each tree, looking around for the others, calling their names. At least an hour after he started, he saw strange bundles lying around on the ground around nearby trees. He marked the tree he was by, then turned in that direction and promptly tripped over one of the bundles that was lying at his feet.

He frowned, looking at it. Really, he thought, it looked like a giant fly wrapped in spider silk. But what kind of spider would be able to catch something that large? Bilbo looked around nervously, just noticing the webs hanging above him. He swallowed hard and thanked his luck that the webs were all empty.

What was this creature? Was it dead already? Were all of the cocoons trapped creatures? He looked down again and saw a bow tip sticking out the end. His breath caught in horror.

"Kili," he whispered, frozen in terror for a long moment. Then his sword came up and hacked carefully through the tough webbing.

He dropped the sword to finish, pushing the strands away with shaking fingers and then caressing the youngest Dwarf's cheeks. "Kili!" he exclaimed, then louder "Kili!"

He folded over his nephew, sobbing with relief when Kili stirred and coughed. Eyes fluttered open a moment later, and the usually grinning rogue whispered, "Uncle? I don't know how much I can move."

"Don't worry about that," Bilbo answered, voice shaking. "I will protect you. When you can, come help me free the others."

There were scores of spider silk bundles around the nearby trees, and Biblo eyed each of them closely, trying to figure out which dozen he wanted. Some were obviously old and fallen in. He skipped over them with only a brief, anxious image of the same happening to his friends.

He saw one tree where there was the glint of light off metal, and he found Bifur. A corner of Bofur's hat was visible from another bundle, a tuft of red beard poking out of a third. Gratefully, Bilbo began hacking at the silk, pulling them free. He was so focused, that the sound of movement made him jump. He looked up nervously, but the webs above him were still empty. Looking around, fingers reaching for his sword, he saw that it was just Kili, crawling slowly to join him and tugging at the broken strands with weak, trembling fingers.

"Wake them," Bilbo instructed. "I will find the rest."

There were two more bundles around that tree, and Bilbo took his sword to them. Neither were Dwarves, and the sight of definitely dead woodland animals made the Hobbit recoil with horror. He was more careful after that, and found the others as quickly as he could. They woke slowly and helped free the others, rising as they could to stumble around the trees. The last he found was Thorin, and his own hands shook as he cleaned away the spider silk from the dark hair and regal face.

"Thorin," he begged, leaning down and kissing him desperately. "Wake up, Thorin."

As the Dwarf prince stirred, Bilbo heard a noise over the sounds of the Dwarves. He looked up slowly, entire body recoiling in fear as he saw giant spiders lowering themselves.

"Run!" he shouted. "Spiders! Run! I'll hold them off!" He pulled Thorin to his feet, pushing the stumbling Dwarf toward his nephews, trusting them to get him away.

He slipped on Gollum's ring, grip tightening on his sword. Invisible, he had the advantage of surprise. He hoped. Did spiders rely on sight? To be safe, he eased silently aside, eyes darting around at the spiders.

There was one moving too close to the slow retreat of the Dwarves, and Bilbo leapt on it, stabbing down through it before it could throw him off. He was further horrified to hear it screaming; shouting to the others that it had been stung, it had been killed, by something it couldn't see.

"Where is the thing?" one of the other spiders wondered, lowering itself to the ground nearby.

Bilbo held his breath, willing himself as silent as a Hobbit could be, until he attacked with a lunge. Two spiders dead. Three. Four. And then there were too many surrounding him, and he thought the others should be well away. He vaulted a spider and ran, invisible and silent, in the direction his Dwarves had gone.

He planned to removed the ring when he caught up with them, and it was a good thing that had been his plan. The unresisting Dwarves were surrounded by Elves. Their hands were tied and the Elves had all their weapons.

Sword still in hand, Bilbo followed, using all the stealth he knew, as they went to the Elf stronghold. He wanted to step close and assure Thorin that he would get them out of this, but they were surrounded too well. He followed to what had to be a throne room, where the Dwarves were pushed to their knees before what had to be the leader.

He was different from Elrond, the leader of these forest Elves. Where Elrond had been dark, this one was golden; where Elrond had intimidated but offered hospitality, this one remained calm and ordered all the Dwarves in the dungeon.

All but one, because he wanted to question Thorin. Again, Bilbo had to resist the urge to move close for support. Even still suffering from spider venom, Thorin was cagy and close. Why had they attacked revelers? They hadn't. They had run out of supplies and wished to beg for food. Why were they there in the first place? That was Dwarf business, and no concern of Thranduil.

At that, the Elf sneered and motioned for his guards to take Thorin away. "Make sure they're fed," he said, and Bilbo could see him smirk at the obvious relief from Thorin.

The guards were too careful for him to follow, and once again Bilbo was alone.


	7. Separated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bilbo finds his Dwarves.

Stealing food from a large kitchen was easier than it would have been to steal from Bilbo's own small kitchen at Bag End (unless, of course, you were a band of unruly Dwarves). Since there were so many Elves running around, and so many dishes sitting in different levels of preparation, taking bites of things until he was sated was quite simple and not even noticed.

Finally full, after at least two days of nothing, Bilbo turned to finding the dungeons and his friends. It was a task that took him three days, following others through the citadel until he was led to the correct small door.

When the guards had gone, he slipped down a flight of stairs to a long hallway of locked doors. He approached the first one, crouched near the food slot, and hissed into it. "Hello!"

"Burglar?" came a voice that was undoubtedly Dwalin. "If you get me some of that rope, laddie, I have so much I could teach you."

Bilbo's invisible face flamed red, and he heard low laughter from Dwalin. "Are the others with you?" he demanded.

"Of course not. They'd not put us together to plot our escape. Much good plotting would do with us on one side of these doors and them on the other with our gear and weapons."

"I'm out here," Bilbo said firmly. "I will figure out where everyone is, and how to get us all out of here."

"Good luck to you," Dwalin said, and Bilbo could hear his skepticism. There was a moment of silence, and just before Bilbo moved away, Dwalin spoke again. "Let me know how they are."

"Of course," Bilbo answered. "Now I know where you are, I won't leave any of you alone."

He moved away then, because if he hadn't he would have wanted to stay and protect Dwalin without finding the others. There was no reply to his hissed greeting at the cell across the hall, or the next two either. Finally, in the fourth try, there was an answer.

"Uncle?" Fili's voice, low and desperate. "Where is my brother? Is Kili safe?"

Bilbo had a moment to be jealous of the brothers and the bond that they shared before answering softly in the negative. "I will find him," he promised. "I will get all of us out of here."

He continued down the hallway, marking the occupied cells with a rune down where the jailers wouldn't notice it. The prisoners were in varying states of mind: Balin resigned to their fate, Bofur joking that at least they were fed, Gloin aching to have his axe and split Elf heads with it. Bilbo reassured them all as well as he could, letting none of them know that Thorin was not in their hallway. It was enough that he was worried sick about it.

He was another two days haunting the throne room before Thranduil called for the "special prisoner" to be brought. It had to be Thorin, and Bilbo's breath caught in anticipation.

The Dwarf prince had recovered from the forest and the spiders. He refused to kneel before the leader of the Elves. Bilbo, from his hidden corner of the room, drank in the sight of the proud and beloved face. Thorin was well and safe, and Bilbo couldn't keep the pounding of his heart at the sight and sound of him.

"We have done no harm. Why do we continue to be held like criminals?" He held up bound hands, eyes dark and angry.

"You offered threats to my peaceful people and have invaded my land with no word of explanation," Thranduil answered, head held high and superior. "You are criminals until I say you are not. What were you doing in the Greenwood?"

"Traveling," Thorin answered, expression a sneer of contempt that did not change through the whole of his questioning.

When the Elf lord grew tired of getting answers that were no answers, he sent Thorin back to his cell. Bilbo, more familiar with the citadel after over a week there, was able to follow closely to the private corridor where Thorin was finally untied and locked in.

It was only after he had watched the Elves depart that Bilbo realized he had been considering Dwalin’s words and how he might steal the rope. His cheeks flamed, and he hurried to crouch by the locked door.

"Thorin!" he called softly. "Thorin, it's Bilbo."

"Burglar?" Thorin demanded, reaching through the flap. "You are safe? You are free?"

Bilbo twined their fingers together. "I am here. I can move around unseen, and I know where everyone is. I-- I have an idea about how to get out of here, but I'm not sure how well it will work...."

"Tell me and I will help," Thorin said, fingers tightening around Bilbo's. 

Bilbo remembered what Dwalin had said about how Dwarves gave themselves unreservedly to one another. He shifted to lean closer against the door, voice low and intimate as he told Thorin everything he had learned about the running of the Elf home. He needed to stop and explain the magic of the ring he had gotten under the Misty Mountains to assure Thorin that he was being safe and not risking himself.

"If only Gandalf were here," he said at the finish. "He'd have us out in a second and none of this wandering about invisible."

"He won't come," Thorin answered, thumb tracing over Bilbo's fingers. "You saw him there when he left us with Beorn. He knew he wouldn't be back and he sought to stop our quest. He thinks I want the gold."

"Don't you?" Bilbo asked, lacing his fingers through Thorin's. "I thought Dwarves loved gold."

Thorin's hand stilled. "This is not about treasure," he answered, voice a ferocious whisper. "It is about home. Our home that was taken from us. Our dignity and safety. This is about Erebor, not some shiny trinkets." Bilbo heard him shift against the door and their hands were wound more tightly together. When he spoke again, it was despair and not anger that filled his voice. "But my grandfather's madness for gold was what brought the dragon in the first place. Perhaps Gandalf is right to doubt me."

"No," Bilbo answered. "You are not your grandfather. I said I would help you take back your home, and your home is what you are looking for."

There was no answer outside a trembling of fingers around his own. He stayed for hours into the night, pressed against the door and holding Thorin's hand. They both dozed fitfully, taking what sleep they could and comforting one another with their presence.

They both recognized the time for guards to come with food. Thorin began to reluctantly uncurl his fingers, but Bilbo couldn't leave him without reassurances.

"I promise," he said, leaning down to touch his lips to strong fingers. "I will get us all out of here. I will find out anything you need to know, and I will tell you what is happening."

There was a sigh from the other side of the door. "Keep an eye on Thranduil," Thorin said, releasing him.

"I promise you," Bilbo repeated before he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a conversation that I needed them to have. Thorin has been a pauper-prince for basically all of his adult life. While the riches of Erebor feature in his plans, what he really is after is the safety of having a real home and the feeling if belonging. Which is not to say that this can't change.
> 
> Also, poor Bilbo. Dwalin will forever be teasing him.


	8. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they leave the Elf King's halls.

He was more than a week working on his plan. Thorin was the only one he told of it and how it was coming. The prince sent messages to the rest of the company, and Bilbo made sure that they were all aware of each other. He shared brief touches with his nephews, and he continued to sleep fitfully against the door of Thorin's cell, fingers twined through the flap.

They were model prisoners, since he was able to get messages back and forth, and the jailers grew careless. Bilbo was finally able to steal the keys to the cells when he knew the barrels would soon be sent down the river. But their gear and weapons.... He knew they needed them, but he couldn’t find them anywhere.

Keeping the keys tightly in a pocket so they wouldn’t jingle, Bilbo went to spy on Thranduil while he thought about his next step. It couldn’t take long - how long before they noticed the missing keys? - but he needed to try and get their gear.

Bilbo had found that hiding just behind the throne was the best place for secrecy. He was out of the way, and could hear everything that went on. He had just settled there when a panicked Elf came and whispered something to Thranduil. The Elf lord went still with anger, but responded with equal softness. He then sat back, beautiful features twisted in hate.

Bilbo sat forward, knowing that whatever happened next would be important.

When Azog the Defiler strode in, it was almost more than Bilbo could manage to not strike him down where he stood.

“I have hunted Dwarves into your forest,” the pale Orc said, his voice as deep and harsh in the Common Tongue as in his own. “Have you found them?”

Thranduil was silent a long, measuring moment. “And why would I tell such as you even if I had?”

Azog smiled knowingly and sneeringly. “You have no love for these Dwarves, nor they for you. If they find your people in the wood, they will kill them. They are my prey and I demand them.”

“You are in a position to demand nothing,” Thranduil answered him. “And you have come here for nothing. I have no Dwarves for you. Show him out.”

There was silence in the room for a long, tense moment when the Orc was removed. It was not until there was a nod from the doorway that told Thranduil that Azog was completely and truly gone that the Elf lord spoke.

“Legolas, remove the Dwarves and all signs of them. I no longer care where they are going or why. If that is what comes after them, we do not want them here.”

The blond Elf who had answered the summons bowed acknowledgement and stepped briskly from the room. Bilbo followed, spirits high for the first time in days.

“The Dwarves won’t believe you mean to help them,” he said when they were well alone. He smiled to see the Elf look around in confusion, keeping the ring on until he was certain. “They had no trust for you to start with, and now they’ve been kept prisoner for almost a fortnight. They’ll never follow you.”

A thin knife had appeared in the Elf’s hand. “Show yourself, whoever you are.”

Bilbo skipped lightly to the other side of the room. “How would you get them away with no one the wiser?” he asked, gratified at the expression almost of fright on the Elf’s face when he whirled. “Would you open the doors, shake their hands and say ‘Well met, Master Dwarf, so sorry for the inconvenience’?” He moved again, watching the Elf turn as his voice moved.

“If I can,” came the answer. “If my father wants them gone, I will do what it takes to get them to let me remove them.”

Bilbo ghosted close. “You’ll have a hard time of it,” he whispered, “when I have the keys.”

The Elf swung wildly, and Bilbo had to dodge back, tripping over loose stones and falling with a clatter. He rolled out of the way and bounced back to his feet as Legolas continued to blindly follow the sound of him. “They will trust me, and I have a plan. Can I trust you?”

“Let me see you so I know _I_ can trust _you,_ ” the Elf said, looking around with narrowed eyes.

With his sword and hands hidden behind his back, just in case, Bilbo slipped the ring off and held it in one fisted hand. “Can I trust you?” he asked again.

The Elf’s knife lowered as he looked Bilbo up and down. “Yes,” he said finally. “Tell me your plan.”

Bilbo smiled tightly with satisfaction, and sent the Elf prince to set up what was needed while he slipped to the side of his Dwarves and freed them.

“It’s time,” he whispered to Thorin as he turned the key in the lock. “Come with me to reassure the others. I won’t show myself until it’s safe.” He reached out a hand, taking Thorin’s in his and leading him to the main dungeons.

Warned, the Dwarves were quiet as they left their cells. Brothers reunited with signs of care, and Thorin gave them a moment for it before calling for them to follow him. Still hand in hand, Bilbo and Thorin led the way to the cellars. When confronted by the large barrels, Thorin finally explained the plan.

None of them were pleased, and even Thorin looked dubious when it came down to it. Bilbo waited, hoping that when someone spoke it would be in favor of the plan.

“He couldn’t think of anything other than barrels?” Gloin said skeptically. “I don’t know that Bombur will fit in one of those and I’m not minded to float down the river.”

The ring was off before he could think, and though Thorin held Bilbo’s hand and kept him anchored, he couldn’t stop the Hobbit’s temper.

“I can lock you in your safe, dry cell again, if you like. Who knows when I’ll get another chance to free you? You might as well give up the quest now! Maybe I’ll just go home and leave you here.”

There were stares, though to their credit no exclamations.

“We might as well give up now,” Bofur said with a helpless shrug. “We’ve nothing but our clothes.”

“Do you think I would let it come to that?” Bilbo demanded. “You hired a burglar! Our gear and all your weapons are here! I’ve packed them already. Now hurry! We don’t have much time.”

Not giving them any more time to think, he harried them into the barrels, closing them in safely. Once finished, he looked around for Legolas. The Elf came around a corner and nodded to him, sliding a warm, long cloak around his shoulders.

“It’s not much,” the Elf whispered, “but it should keep you warm. And here’s rope to keep them all together.”

Bilbo flushed slightly as he took the rope, and he nodded a quick thanks before putting the ring back on and watching as Legolas booted all of the barrels down into the river. With a deep breath, he plunged after them.

He had marked all of his barrels, and with a small amount of swimming was able to rope them into a line, riding on the last one to keep all in his sights. He clung tightly, watching for signs that any was taking in water, or that any of the Dwarves were in need of him. They were not, but he had no chance to rest until they were pulled out of the water in Laketown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Bilbo has been wearing the ring for a good 2 weeks straight (that's a fortnight for anyone confused). Let's blame that for his temper and bout of mild sadism in this chapter.
> 
> Surprise guest appearance by someone who really shouldn't be entering Elf halls. I suppose he figures a mutual hatred of Thorin Oakenshield should make up for the fact that he's an Orc? If he didn't have supreme self importance, he wouldn't make a good villain.


	9. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bilbo and Thorin.... Celebrate freedom... As it were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is sex in this chapter! It is less explicit than many things in this very archive, but it is most definitely sex. I am not a big writer of smut, so comments telling me if this works are most appreciated. (Any comments are most appreciated, really.)

The welcome at Laketown had been grand, almost suspiciously so. Bilbo had silently made sure that the barrels with their gear and weapons were safely installed in the empty warehouse they had been given for their stay. He dropped the Elf cloak to dry, silently thanking Legolas for the one thing that had probably saved him from a bad cold. Only when he was sure their goods were safe did he join the others who were being officially greeted by the council of Laketown. He and Thorin had shared a single look that let him know to stay back when the mayor of the town started trying to use the Dwarf prince as a way to hold onto power.

At least they had all been given fresh clothes - even if the clothes were the castoffs of the children of Men. And the feast held in their honor had been good. The food was plentiful and well prepared. Even Bombur had no complaints about the portions. Bilbo used the time to socialize, introducing himself to people of all kinds, as he knew Thorin would want to. The mayor was nothing but a politician, and they needed people who could help them. 

In his travels, he made sure to thank the cooks. He brought Bombur with him, and they shared their own recipes for a time, finding the women who did the cooking glad to learn anything new about food. While Bombur was talking, Bilbo burgled a bottle of oil, even taking the time to check through several to get the olive oil.

Laketown, in its enthusiasm for the Dwarves, had put straw mattresses all around the interior of the warehouse for them. Thorin, as the leader, got a full bed in the room that had once been the warehouse office. A room to himself; Bilbo felt a brush of desire just knowing that they would be able to be alone.

He knocked once, entering when bade to see the Dwarf prince in the clean tunic and trousers he'd been given. Bilbo had met the man the clothes had once belonged to and learned that he would have been the king in Dale. His family had provided much toward the comfort and celebration of this night and several of the Dwarves wore clothes that had belonged to their sons. It was a promising start to rebuilding old relationships, and Bilbo had thanked him heartily.

It was their first chance to be alone since the escape, and the first time to be together since Beorn's house before Mirkwood. Bilbo laid aside the oil, twisted his hands in the borrowed tunic, and kissed Thorin as deeply and completely as he had that last night they had kissed. Thorin responded in kind, wrapping Bilbo in safety and strength. After several minutes, his eyes strayed to the bottle, and Bilbo grew nervous.

"Is it reasonable?" he asked.

Thorin merely picked up the bottle, turning it around in his hands several times. When he looked up, his eyes were dark with desire and he shrugged catlike out of his tunic.

Bilbo's breath caught and he stepped close, running his hands over Thorin's chest. The muscles were firm and smooth under his fingers as he traced them. He trailed his hands through thick, dark hair and followed the lines of muscles all the way down. As he opened the ties on the trousers, he felt Thorin’s hands on him in turn, removing his own borrowed clothes and laying him bare.

Suddenly, he was nervous again. Thorin was gloriously naked and beautiful in front of him, and he was just... Soft. He was soft. Hobbits were mostly soft, or at least the rich ones who didn’t have to do a day’s work that they didn’t want to. What would Thorin think? Would he really want to continue with someone who was so obviously mismatched? He looked up from under his fringe, trying to gauge the Dwarf’s reaction.

What he was thinking must have been obvious in his eyes. Thorin took a step back, looking him over in the imperious way he had that made Bilbo shiver. Then Thorin kissed him again, pulling them both down onto the bed, and Bilbo's confidence returned.

He followed willingly, hands once again rising to Thorin’s body. It seemed important to touch him everywhere, and he was not the only one who thought so because Bilbo whined softly as he was touched in ways he had never been touched before. It was new, and beautiful, and made him desperate for more.

Their hands touched on the oil bottle.

For a moment, they stared at each other. Then Thorin quite deliberately released his grip. Bilbo was exultant until thought followed thought.

“Thorin, you don’t have to do this because of the life debt.....”

Thorin stared at him again, incredulously. “If you think this a reasonable way to repay a debt, Halflings are stranger creatures than I thought,” he answered, one hand rising to caress Bilbo’s shoulder.

Bilbo grinned, feeling as though the light feeling in him would last to eternity. The oil forgotten, he held Thorin in his arms, kissing him in delight, feeling content to do nothing else. Until they fell back on the bed and rubbed against each other, and suddenly nothing would be right until they were one.

Thorin obviously agreed. He pressed the bottle into Bilbo’s hands and rolled to his belly. He glanced over his shoulder, eyes dark with desire, and Bilbo had no clue where the lid to the bottle rolled when it fumbled through his shaking fingers.

He coated his fingers in oil, touch light and careful on Thorin’s body. He had never done this before, and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt Thorin. Which, if Dwalin were to be believed, was very easy. He proceeded slowly, hesitantly, with his own body curled against Thorin’s to feel for any hitch in breath or tightness of pain.

There was a growl from Thorin. "I can hardly feel you. Put some more muscle into it."

Bilbo blushed. "Don't tell me what to do. I've got this under control."

Thorin snorted, and Bilbo, recalling one of the obscene gestures Dwalin had made when telling him about all of this, twisted his fingers. The gasp he earned was triumph, and he continued what he was doing. He did, however, put some more muscle into it.

He needed to be sure, and despite his own need, he delayed. It was long after Thorin started growling at him to get on with it that Bilbo slowly joined them. It was nearly finished right there, and he remained gasping and still, just adjusting to the feel of being connected to Thorin.

"Burglar, I am not made of glass! Move!"

The Hobbit blushed, but stopped himself before he could follow the order. "Bilbo," he said.

"What?"

"I want to hear my name."

Thorin twisted under him, the movement making both Dwarf’s and Hobbit's breathing ragged. His expression as he looked up was a challenge.

"Say my name," Bilbo insisted. "Thorin, please."

There was a long moment before Thorin, in a voice that was dark and made Bilbo tremble, said, "Bilbo. Stop being so careful and show me your desire."

That was the only encouragement the Hobbit needed to lose himself. He began to move, and in short order was aware of nothing but exquisite feeling and the soft sounds of pleasure coming from both of them. After a time that was both infinite and instant, it was over and the Hobbit collapsed over his Dwarf lover, breath coming in sobbing gasps as he moved his hands until Thorin bit down on his lip and came.

There was silence in the private room, except for harsh breaths. For several minutes they both lay panting and undone next to each other but not touching. Then Thorin rolled over, eyes still dark.

"Bilbo," he said, mouth caressing the name. "Would you like to see my desire?"

Bilbo's breath caught. To know and own everything that this proud man was? To belong utterly to him in return?

"Oh, yes," he breathed, and allowed Thorin to press him down into the bed.


	10. Information Gathered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Laketown is really quite helpful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't exactly what I set out to write for Laketown, but this is what Bard wanted to talk about. He's apparently quite trusting of small Hobbits in his son's clothes.

The loud rattle of a knock followed by the door opening woke them, and both Thorin and Bilbo were out of bed with swords in hand in an instant. It only took another moment to realize two things. First, it was Kili, looking at them with a huge grin, and therefore no danger.

Secondly, they were both still naked.

“You’ll want to wash up,” Killi told them, sounding eminently pleased with himself. “And if you don’t come out soon you’ll miss breakfast.” He moved back out of the room, and before the door closed they could hear the raucous laughter start.

Bilbo laid his sword aside, uncertain what this moment was supposed to be like. All the romances he had read included doubt and shame. He didn’t feel any of that, nor did he want to accuse Thorin of using him, and so he felt adrift. He was embarrassed, yes, because who wouldn’t be after being ogled by someone considered a nephew and laughed at by all of one’s friends? But shame? Never.

He looked up to see Thorin run a hand through his hair, reordering it. He lowered his own sword and looked over, meeting Bilbo’s gaze.

“We should wash up,” the Dwarf said. He walked around the bed and touched Bilbo’s face gently. “You’ve never done that before,” he started.

Bilbo smiled up at him. “And I don’t want to hear that you have.” He raised a hand to rest on Thorin’s. “And since I burgled a large bottle, we still have plenty of oil for later.”

Thorin smiled at him, and Bilbo’s heart fluttered. It was a good way to start the day, after all.

Despite Kili’s warning, they took their time about washing and dressing. There was certainly enough time, they both thought, to kiss one another. And helping one another dress involved many lingering touches. It was several minutes before the emerged from the room to join the rest of the company.

Bilbo endured Dwalin’s wolfish grin and Fili and Kili’s laughter. He smiled at all of them with the assurance of what had happened between himself and Thorin the previous night. He nestled between his nephews with his breakfast, allowing them to rib him and make teasing guesses about what they had done.

They all seemed better for a good night’s sleep, a good meal, and freedom. Bilbo watched Thorin move among the company as he ate, looking regal even in Human clothes. He was smiling more than he had in weeks. They were finally close to their destination, and Thorin seemed to relax as they neared their goal.

Once they had all eaten, Thorin gave their directions for the day. They needed to restock themselves for the journey up to the mountain. They needed food. They needed their clothes mended or replaced, and the same with their bedrolls. They needed their leather and metal goods cleaned and tended. And they needed information. He split the tasks, setting groups of the company out to get the things they needed.

Bilbo found himself searching out the Men he had briefly met the previous night as Thorin put him, with Nori, in charge of information. He watched as the Dwarf leader was led away by the mayor and council - a group the company had decided were out for no one’s gain but their own. A look passed between the new lovers before Thorin turned gravely to his hosts and Bilbo turned to seek out his marks.

Bard was the name of the man he felt he needed. They had spoken only briefly at the feast, but the Man had left a deep impression. He had provided much for them, and was descended from royalty. That seemed to matter little in Laketown, with its mayor, but Bard still held himself as royalty, and many looked up to him. Indeed, it was possible that the mayor wanted to use the Dwarves as a means to get prestige for himself and away from Bard.

If so, he was going to find himself quite mistaken. Bilbo sought out Bard discreetly, but did not hide who it was he was seeking. The man was at a shooting range on the land beyond the town and off the lake with his sons and neighbors. Bilbo took a few long moments to enjoy watching them use their bows and wish he had Kili with him, but the two youngest Dwarves had been sent to charm provisions from the town’s maidens.

“You there! This is no place for children.” The voice came with the superior air that only a boy just entering his teens can have for those younger.

“Your pardon,” Bilbo answered, able to bring up amusement and not annoyance for a boy making the assumption. “I am not a child, though, no matter what my height implies to you Big Folk. I am part of the company of Dwarves, and I would like to speak to a man called Bard. Do you know him, young sir?”

The boy blushed at the reply. “You don’t look like a Dwarf,” he protested, trying to soothe his battered ego at having missed his target so entirely.

“Bain, don’t leave him standing there.” The very Man that Bilbo was looking for came to join them, leaning on his bow and nodding a greeting to the Hobbit. “Master Baggins, wasn’t it? I see you’ve met my son Bain.”

“Well met, Master Bain,” Bilbo said with a smile and a bow. 

The boy blushed and bowed back. “Father, he was looking for you.”

Bard looked at Bilbo in surprise, then around at the men and boys surrounding him. “Perhaps a walk, then? I will help you as I can.”

Bilbo nodded, stepping back to let the Man lead the way away from the shooting range. He glanced back at it, resolving to make sure that Kili got a chance to join the Men there, especially Bain.

“Master Bard,” he began slowly. “We are looking for information about the road to the ruins of Dale. I had hoped that you would be able to help us.”

Bard shot him a knowing glance. “Dwarves looking for Dale after all this time? Erebor is what you mean. The dragon hasn’t been seen in years, so they hope it is dead and gone and the kingdom free for the taking?” He shook his head. “Dragons aren’t so easy to know. But the Men of Laketown are starting to think of reclaiming Dale as well."

He glanced down and made a visible choice to continue talking. "This doesn’t sit well with the council, who make their money from the bridges of the town and the fear of the dragon. Don’t let them know what your quest is.”

Bilbo shrugged uncomfortably. “We’re trying not to let anyone know. But if there’s anything you can tell me about the road, Master Bard? We’ve come a long way, but this is the most dangerous part.”

Bard looked up toward the mountain, looming large now over the landscape.

“The dragon hasn’t been seen in years,” he repeated quietly, seemingly ignoring Bilbo's question. “But that doesn’t mean it’s dead. Dragons are long lived monsters. There’s no way to be sure if he’s alive other than finding him in the mountain.”

That was exactly what Bilbo was not looking forward to, so he steered the conversation away from dragons and toward road conditions, settlements, and weather patterns. Having gathered all he thought was useful about what their journey would be like, he thanked the Man and went back to the warehouse base.

He got himself a light snack and sat between Dori and Ori, who were mending clothes and leather, and Bifur and Bofur, who were tending weapons and mail. Bofur seemed pleased to show off his expertise, and the five of them rubbed along nicely until the door burst open and Fili and Kili entered, arms laden with supplies, laughing to each other about what the lasses of the town would like to send them off with.

Seeing Dori’s disapproving look, Bilbo was quick to comment on the shooting range. He was gratified at the glee that was instantly on Kili’s face. The young Dwarf reached for his bow from the pile of cleaned weapons, and nearly swallowed his dinner in one bite, dragging his older brother out the door again with earlier jokes forgotten. Fili merely rolled his eyes and waved as he followed.

Bilbo smiled after them, then settled in to help as he could. The afternoon with the group’s joker and quieter members was relaxing. Bilbo learned something about mending that he didn’t already know, and helped with things he did. And through it all, others of the company came and left, bringing provisions or information. With Thorin being monopolized by the council, all of this came to Bilbo, and he struggled to remember the unfamiliar names and strange descriptions.

They had all eaten supper when their personal royalty returned to them, Fili and Kili tumbling over each other in the doorway and causing their uncle to join them in a heap on the floor. Such were the high spirits that Thorin just laughed and wrestled with his nephews for a few minutes. They teamed up against him, but it still took them time to pin him to the floor, and longer still until he cried hus iwn defeat. The young Dwarves were nothing but good cheer after that.

Kili couldn’t stop prattling about the shooting range and Bard the bowman. He was an amazing archer, and Kili didn’t think that even Elvish warriors could best him. His son was something else, Fili put in, amused and disbelieving at a claim that the boy and his father could speak with the beasts of the field and the birds of the air. While Kili continued to expound on the ability and comradery of the town’s hunters, Fili cornered his uncles, speaking of the other things he’d overheard at the range; of how the people were tired of the council, and the theories on why the mayor was so glad to see a group of Dwarves in his town.

Thorin decided, with the others agreeing, that they would spend the night, finish their supplying, and leave in the afternoon the next day. That decided, they all set their work aside to make an early night of it, sending good natured teasing after Thorin and Bilbo, who were moving to make good use of the last night of privacy they would likely have until this was all over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fili and Kili are wonders of childish glee. I just thought you should know.


	11. Smaug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they encounter a dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, you make me so happy. Here I thought "I think this is a story that maybe some people will like" and I'm just getting such a response! You are great and I love every single one of you.

As the mountain loomed larger in the next week, Bilbo grew more and more nervous. The reason he had been hired in the first place was coming up. He would have to face a dragon, figure out how to kill it, and then actually kill it.

He withdrew, and even Thorin’s warm arms were less and less able to calm him. The entire company was aware of the problem, all making the effort to assure him they were confident in his abilities. It didn’t help, only putting more pressure on him.

In the night, their roles had switched. Thorin now had to keep the nightmares away from Bilbo. He seemed to wake every night with images of fire and blood and death in his mind. How could he even think that he would be able to get them out of all of this? Why wasn’t Gandalf there to help him? All he could do was bury himself in Thorin’s arms, feeling them tighten around him in a silent promise to never let him go.

Finally, they reached the mountain. After everything they had been through, Bilbo felt easier climbing the Lonely Mountain than he had climbing the Misty Mountains. Thorin took out the map so they could try and find the place of the secret door, because they needed to be in place by Durin's Dy and time was running out.

In the end, it was chance or fate that brought them to it, because really, finding a “grey stone” on the side of a mountain was like finding a needle in a stack of needles. Kili had half given up and slumped to the ground. He stared at the bird, wondering if he should shoot it just for the practice, when the beam of light hit the mountainside.

Thorin hurried to the spot with the key, and opened the door to the foul stench of dragon. Everyone looked at Bilbo, who took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. From the back of the group, he passed by everyone. There were murmured words of encouragement from all around him, and Fili pressed a dagger into his hand, despite Sting hanging at his side.

There was so much in Thorin’s eyes that Bilbo had to close his eyes before kissing him, unable to answer the need there. Without a word, he slipped into the tunnel, noticing after a long moment that the thrush had fluttered to his shoulder and was looking around curiously. He didn’t shoo it away, feeling that it offered him some comfort that the Dwarves couldn’t.

He paused before entering the cavern of the dragon’s horde and slipped the ring onto his finger. Only then did he venture out, and he was glad he had taken the precaution, because Smaug’s head was sticking out of a pile of gold and gems and looking around the room.

“I smell your presence, thief,” the dragon said. “Come where I can see you.”

“Why do you think me a thief?” Bilbo asked, somehow managing to keep his voice steady. He slipped carefully and silently into the room and around the edges of the treasure.

“What else would come here?” the dragon asked. “Though I don’t recognize your smell. You aren’t Dwarf. I know that scent well enough. Nor Man. I haven’t smelled Elf in a long time. Is that what you are?”

“No,” Bilbo answered, moving forward as carefully as he could. “I’m no Elf. And I haven’t come to steal from you, just to see you. The great Smaug! Who hasn’t heard of you?”

That worked to stroke the beast’s ego, and Bilbo was confronted by the dragon sliding out of the pile to look around for him.

“I still don’t see you, fair speaking thief, but I hear you closer. Why would you wish to see me?”  
“Dragons are amazing creatures,” Bilbo flattered, inching close. “Invincible, so they say. Who wouldn’t want to confirm that?”

“So they should say,” Smaug answered him. “I took this place years ago when I was still young. Now, nothing can stop me.”

“Truly?” Bilbo asked. “There’s no spot on you that would be a danger to your life?”

“Come look, if you dare!” the dragon roared, goaded. His wings spread as he crouched down.

“Nothing on the back,” Bilbo said, after moving softly around the room. “Unless your wings..?”

“No.” The wings pulled in and Smaug rolled onto his back.

Bilbo drew in a breath as a hole in the dragon’s belly armor appeared to him when gold and gems rolled off. “Nothing,” he said, voice commendably steady. He stepped closer, Fili’s dagger shaking in his hand, to finish the job, but was distracted by a shimmer.

He looked over to see what had to be the Arkenstone, rolling down the pile that had until recently held the dragon. His eyes darted from the gem to the dragon. Without quite knowing why, he stooped to pick up the gem.

Not quietly enough, because the dragon roared in anger, flame filling the room as Bilbo raced for the tunnel and the secret door.

“Thief!” The epithet followed him as the wings churned the air in the cavern. “I will find you and roast you!”

For the first time in years, the dragon Smaug flew from the mountain, following the unfamiliar scent.

Bilbo wrenched the ring off his finger as he neared the exit of the tunnel and joined the Dwarves in staring wide eyed after the dragon.

“It’s heading toward Laketown,” Ori stuttered. “They’ll never survive.”

They shared an uneasy look.

The thrush chose that moment to chirp, and Bilbo was reminded of it. He cocked his head to look at it. “That’s right,” he said. “You were with me. You saw what I saw, didn’t you?” It seemed to nod at him. “There’s a man in Laketown who says he can understand the speech of animals. Go! Tell him what we saw!”

The bird chirped again and flew off.

“What happened?” Dwalin demanded.

“I--” Somehow, he couldn’t quite tell them about the stone hidden in his tunic. “I made too much noise.”

There were deep sighs from around him, but the eyes had turned back to the door.

“But the dragon is gone,” Gloin pointed out. “And we are here.”

“And if that bird is able to reach Bard, it may not come back,” Kili put in hopefully.

“Yes,” Thorin said slowly, and Bilbo saw a new kind of lust enter his eyes, one unfamiliar from their travels. “We have this side door, so we’ll be safe. Let us go reclaim what is ours.”

Suddenly, Bilbo was glad he had kept the Arkenstone secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember that conversation Bilbo and Thorin had in the dungeon? Yeah. This is kind of why I needed them to have it.


	12. Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things go bad.

They had days to take inventory of the main treasure cavern and start choosing shares of what was there. Bilbo, the Arkenstone heavy in his pocket, took nothing. Thorin seemed happy enough to deck him in golden and mithril splendor, making Bilbo blush. At those times, though he was generous and attentive, Thorin seemed to look at Bilbo as he looked at the rest of the treasure and Bilbo's hands would curl into fists because he didn't know how to make it stop.

They also started lists of things that needed fixing. It seemed to be everything. Erebor would not be a grand kingdom again for a long time. Dori had been sent to the Iron Hills, for many more than thirteen would be needed to reclaim the mountain, and the Dwarves of Erebor had found their exiled homes everywhere.

There was a corridor of small homes not far from the treasure hall - although before Smaug had wrought his destruction it must have been a long trek from one to the other. It had not seen the same ruin that the rest of the area had, and much of the furniture was still in one piece. They rejoiced for it and took up residence, all of them in one home. While the threat of the dragon's return was less every day, the remnants of his stink and his fires kept them close.

The individual rooms gave a bit more privacy than on the road, and for that Bilbo was thankful. The gold-lust in Thorin frightened and upset him, and opening himself seemed one of the few ways to beat it back. Taking or taken, at those times he knew that all of Thorin's thoughts were on him. It was only when they were alone at night that Thorin was the man he knew, and he remembered Thorin's words about gold madness and despaired.

More than a week had passed when Balin came to tell them of an army of Men in the valley of Dale and the envoy at the broken front gates. Thorin and Bilbo followed him back out, blinking in the sunlight, to see the lights of cooking fires below them, and Bard watching them move.

"You are safe," Bilbo said with a relieved sigh. "The thrush got to you?"

The Man nodded. "Your dragon is dead. It took with it many men of Laketown, and it destroyed the town itself. The council took fright at first sight of it and fled, with the city coffers. We have no way to rebuild unless you share your treasure."

Bilbo was already nodding agreement when Thorin roared, "It is not your treasure."

"Nor would it be yours had the dragon remained unslain," Bard answered, eyes hard. "It is because of me that you have regained your treasure in the first place."

"And because of me," came another voice, and all turned to see Thranduil, with Legolas and a retinue behind him.

"You?" Thorin sneered. "What did you do but lock us away?"

"Without me, you would have starved to death in the forest," Thranduil stated.

"So I'm to thank you for your prison?" Thorin answered with a glare. "You did nothing to help our cause."

Bilbo and Legolas shared an agonized glance, aware that neither of their kings knew how the escape had truly happened.

"Because of this dragon, my Greenwood has been tainted by darkness."

Thorin was disdainful. "Had you not turned your back on us in our time of need, your forest would be pristine. You brought it on yourself."

"We are owed!" Thranduil snapped.

"Men have paid for your renewed fortunes, Master Dwarf," Bard put in. "We are also owed."

"This treasure belongs to Dwarves, and with Dwarves it shall remain!" Thorin thundered.

Bilbo followed as the Dwarf leader stalked back into the mountain halls.

"There's plenty to share, Thorin," he said softly.

Thorin stopped, turning. "And where would it stop?" he asked, voice low as if he wanted Bilbo to understand. "If we give away what is ours now, everyone will come claiming it. Rivendell, Gondor, Rohan, Men and Elves would flock to steal from us. Even other Dwarves would claim to be owed for our living space these many years."

Bilbo was deeply troubled. "But we are so outnumbered. And the gates are broken, and we have no stores. They have both come with armies!"

"And we will fight to the death, and show the world what it means to be Dwarves," Thorin answered, voice serious as the grave.

That day, the Arkenstone weighed heavily in the Hobbit's pocket. Bard and Thranduil had given them the day to think better of their miserliness or prepare for battle. The Dwarves moved like ghosts in their own halls. Brothers stayed close to one another as if saying good bye, and Ori wept at Dori's absence more than once. Bilbo watched them, and knew it was wrong. After everything they had been through, he couldn't let it end this way. He knew what he had to do, although he feared it would lose him everything.

He tired Thorin out that night. It was a difficult thing to manage without exhausting himself as well, and he almost didn't manage it. But he had a good memory, and Dwalin had given him plenty of advice that he was finally desperate enough to try.

He tucked the blankets tenderly around his sleeping lover and bade him a silent, despairing farewell. Slipping on the ring, he stole out of the mountain. Even in the dark, he was able to make his way down to the valley floor where two armies had settled uncomfortably close. It must have been fate that brought him to a sentry of people he knew. Slipping off the ring, he stepped out.

“Bain, Legolas. Bring your fathers here? I’ll keep watch for you. Goodness knows, it’s one of the few skills I’ve actually learned.”

He sat in the dark, the internal fight over what he was about to do still raging. But he was still there when the two leaders and their sons returned. He stood.

“I do not want my Dwarves to die,” he said softly, voice firm and free of tremor.

“Your Dwarves?” Thranduil asked snidely.

Bilbo didn’t deign to answer. “There is no way they can win this. I will do all in my power to stop it.”

“Then you must bend the stubborn head of Thorin Oakenshield,” Bard told him, arms crossing.

Bilbo pulled his hands out of his pouch.

“The Arkenstone,” Thranduil breathed.

Bilbo handed it to Bard, the one he trusted. “Tell him you will ransom it for the burglar’s share,” he said softly, then used the ring to disappear. He could not stand any more talk. He wasn’t doing it for them. He was doing it for his Dwarves, and he feared none of them would understand.

Especially Thorin.

Feeling bereft, he slipped back through their own watch to sit wakeful the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my head canon, Dwarves live in multigenerational homes. So one home would completely fit all 14 of them


	13. A Battle of Many Armies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is much fighting, and Thorin is more of a towering inferno of rage than I can portray.

He was on hand the next morning, when the leaders of both invading armies came to parlay. How could he not be? He wished he could say he was surprised by the answer they were given. But he was not.

He held back, bracing himself for the inevitable when the others left, giving them an hour to come to their senses or die.

“Where is that thief, Baggins?” Thorin roared, and the hatred in the words made Bilbo flinch.

Fili’s arm wrapped around his shoulder, at once comforting and keeping off retreat. So he looked up, only able to meet Thorin’s eyes briefly before the pure animal fury in them made him shiver and look away. “You said I might choose my own reward,” he said, voice coming out soft and hesitant, not the confident strength he knew he needed. He curled his hands into fists and took a deep breath. "It's my duty to put the good of this company ahead of my own. It is a reasonable trade!"

“Reasonable?" Thorin bellowed. "You stole the Arkenstone! The heart of the mountain! You betrayed us! You betrayed me!”

Bilbo forced steel into his spine and looked up again. “You have betrayed everyone here to their deaths! Do not accuse me, Thorin!”

One of Thorin's hands raised, to be caught by three others before he could strike. It seemed to startle Thorin as much as everyone else. He shook off the others’ hold and turned, no longer looking at Bilbo.

“Go to them, if you like, or return to your Shire, Halfling. You are no longer one of us.”

He strode away, entire bearing stiff and controlled, and Bilbo slumped into Fili’s bracing arm.

“I had hoped....” he said softly.

“You do not understand war, uncle,” Fili said kindly.

“I do not understand suicide!” Bilbo answered, looking up with eyes swimming with tears.

“We have seen signs from the East,” Fili told him. “It will not be thirteen of us that they fight, and the new troops will come from behind.”

Bilbo shivered, imagining reinforcements coming too late, and roused himself. “You heard what he said. I must go.”

“Uncle--”

Bilbo smiled wanly. “I fear I will never hear you call me that again.” He looked down at the waiting armies, then out toward the West. “I will not leave before this is over. Even if I am no longer one of you, I will not leave you.”

He put the ring on before there could be an answer, sliding down the mountain to a place where he could watch the battle and interfere if necessary. He only turned once, but there was no one to look back to.

In an hour, the invaders set upon the mountain. To find, as Fili had predicted, that they were set upon from behind by Dwarf reinforcements. While not prepared to come into a fight, they were all armed and ready to defend their newly retaken home.

Bilbo watched, invisible, from what he thought was a safe distance. He wasn’t counting on the way that a battle spread. Soon enough, he saw fighters close to him, and knew that he had to run to their defence.

Oin was too deaf to hear the Elf coming up behind him over the sound of battle. He felt the vibrations when the enemy fell, and turned to see his would-be killer hamstrung.

No one found the Man with the bow until after the battle was over. Despite missing some fingers, he would live. And so would Ori and Gloin.

Bofur had fallen, a long line of blood down his arm from a shoulder wound. He looked up, wanting to see the end coming, and instead saw his attacker crumple to the ground. His hat settled itself on his head and he smiled fiercely. He whistled about kitchenware as he bound his shoulder, then scooped up a weapon and rejoined the fray.

Legolas was closed in by Men, surrounded and outmatched. Suddenly, two of them fell down and gave the Elf and opening to retreat. He did, wondering for a moment what had happened, but the ferocity of battle didn’t let him think of it for long.

Bilbo did pull the ring off as he stepped between Nori and Bard. He was gratified by the fact that, despite the ringing denouncement at the gate, Nori instantly stayed his hand on seeing him. Bard, having lost his sword and bow in the fight, stayed where he was.

“You can’t, Nori. He’s the one who slew Smaug!”

The Dwarf hesitated, but moved off to another fight, coming to his brothers’ rescue. Bard nodded to Bilbo, scooped up a dropped sword, and also moved away.

Bilbo shivered, wishing that the whole thing could be stopped that easily. He slipped the ring back on and climbed into a niche in the rock, eyes peeled for familiar figures. It was this intensity that meant that he didn’t see the Orcs until they were among them. He didn’t notice that the Elves, Dwarves, and Men were fighting back to back until he saw the Wargs snapping at them with sharp teeth.

It was with shock that he saw the white Warg and its pale rider parading through the chaos of battle. Knowing there was only one person the Orc would be after, he scanned the field desperately. Finally, he saw the gleaming gold of Fili’s hair. The helmeted partner at his back, bow quiet and out of arrows, had to be Kili. And beyond them was a figure he would recognize anywhere.

Hoping it wasn’t too far, he leapt off his rock, racing invisibly through the battle. Under Wargs, around Men, leaping over corpses, he kept his eyes locked on the Dwarves he needed to protect. He was much too far away when Azog lifted his mace and swung it down against Fili’s unprotected head. Bilbo’s step faltered as Fili fell, hearing in his head his own pessimistic prophecy at the gate.

He saw Kili’s scream of rage and fear, and the reckless Dwarf leapt onto the Orc, only to be batted away like a fly and sent rolling.

As Thorin stepped up, shoulders square and prepared for death, Bilbo was finally close enough. He pulled Sting from its scabbard and vaulted a fallen Man onto the Warg, stabbing Azog viciously in the back. The Orc screamed at the unexpected attack, and Thorin took instant advantage, cleaving the hated head from its body and stabbing the Warg between the eyes.

The beast dying under him, Bilbo launched himself at Thorin, needing more than the assurance of his eyes. He gripped the front of the Dwarf's armor and kissed him, tasting blood, sweat, and dirt on his lips. There was a moment's startled stillness, during which Bilbo realized he was still wearing the ring, and then Thorin was kissing him back fiercely, fingers winding in the hair at Bilbo's nape. And he was so alive.

Thorin's fingers traced features that were, to him, invisible, and Bilbo sighed into the gentle touch. Thorin here, in the middle of battle, was the lover and companion he'd been on the road. Gone was the gold lust, the anger and over-conscious pride. Now he was once again the regal, impressive, considerate leader Bilbo knew.

Bilbo kissed him once more, and then released him. Slipping off the ring, he turned to Fili, crouching to feel for a pulse and look through the flowing blood at the wound. Kili, clutching one arm to his side, was there before much longer. He leaned heavily on Bilbo, eyes wide and frightened.

"Is he--" he couldn't finish. "If he had kept his helm, this wouldn't have happened!"

As if hearing his brother, Fili's eyes tensed and his head rolled toward them. Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief, giving Kili a quick, sideways hug before rising.

"Stay with him," he instructed, rising to do what he felt was his duty.

"Yes, uncle," Kili said quietly, voice still at the edge of tears.

Trying to avoid the battle still raging around them, Bilbo wove his way to the one item he hoped would finish it. Scooping up the severed head with a shudder, he turned to find Thorin. The Dwarf was close beside his nephews, keeping them safe from Orcs, and Bilbo felt a flush of love at the sight of it.

"Thorin!" he shouted when the Dwarf had a moment of rest. When Thorin looked up, Bilbo threw him Azog's head. 

Thorin stared at it in incomprehension for a long moment, before lifting it aloft and bellowing defiance and triumph. Even through the din of battle, every head turned to him. The Orcs on the field quaked with fear, and the defenders cheered with renewed spirit. The battle quickly moved away from them as the Orcs fought to flee, but died ignobly.

The two joined Kili at his brother's side. And they stayed there, holding one another for comfort until the healers came to help them all to safety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, no eagles and no Beorn, because that is too much for my little brain to keep track of. Instead, I give you invisible snogging. Good trade? Y/N?
> 
> Also, in case you hadn't figure it out, Fili doesn't have a helmet because he gave it to his brother. Kili thus feels responsible.


	14. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which understandings are reached

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a touch of fluff while I seriously edit the next section.

The family had been tended and left alone. Bilbo and Thorin were quite well enough to watch their nephews until they woke, and the healers were needed elsewhere. With the size of the battle, there were many wounded of every species, and all of the healers were joined together to try and save them.

It was quiet in their tent. Kili breathed deep and even, his arm set and the strong painkiller putting him to sleep. Fili's breathing was quieter, and Bilbo strained for a time to be sure it was there. Until he regained consciousness, they wouldn't know what kind of long term damage he had suffered from the head wound.

He glanced at Thorin out of the corner of his eye. It was one thing to come together in the heat of battle. Now that it was calm, which Thorin would remain?

Thorin held out an arm, looking at his own bandages. He seemed to be speaking to his arm when he started. "That's the second time you've saved my life, and this time you had far less cause."

Bilbo turned his head sharply. "Would you have left me to that fate?"

"No," Thorin answered, voice almost too quiet to hear.

Bilbo breathed a deep sigh of relief. "Dwarves give their hearts whole," he said after a moment. "That's what Dwalin told me. And they demand a whole heart in return." He paused, knowing that he had to say this just right if he really wanted Thorin to understand. "I was sorry to let you think you did not have all of me. I-- I did not want to lose your heart."

This time it was Thorin who turned, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "We only lose our hearts once," he said. "I could not take mine back from you. It makes betrayal worse, to still love the traitor. And yet, you were right. Had our kin not come, we would all have died."

He stared pensively at his nephews. "I don't know how I would have faced my fathers in the halls beyond life and explained that I had brought my nephews to death because of misplaced pride. Gold has no place there, and putting it above family would be reviled."

Bilbo reached out and slipped his fingers into Thorin's. Thorin squeezed lightly, and Bilbo leaned gently against him. "You were blinded," he said. "You came to take your home back, but I think when you got here you found your grandfather's ghost screaming for his gold." His fingers tightened. "He is gone now," he finished fiercely. He put up his other hand, turning Thorin's face and meeting his eyes. What he saw there made him smile. "And ever so our foes shall fall."

"...king has come...." 

"Fili!" both exclaimed, coming out of their almost embrace. Thorin grabbed his hand tightly. "How do you feel?"

"Head hurts," Fili answered, voice scratchy. He tried to hold his uncle's hand, but his fingers were shaking too much to grip. "Room spinning."

"You have a head wound," Thorin said gently, folding his second hand over his nephew's. "It will be bad for a time. You will be looked after."

"Kili?"

Bilbo and Thorin smiled at each other. "He's next to you," Bilbo answered. "He's alive." He saw Fili try to reach out and moved around the pallet, joining their hands. It was a good thing Kili's broken arm was the other one, he reflected as the younger Dwarf's grip tightened automatically.

"Rest," Thorin said, tenderly stroking the unwounded side of his nephew's head. When it was clear that Fili was no longer conscious, he rose.

Bilbo had never seen him so near tears. "They will both heal," he said, moving back to Thorin's side. He was wrapped in a trembling tight embrace. Knowing that this was the most emotionally vulnerable he would likely ever see Thorin, he returned it with as much comfort as he could.


	15. Through the Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which time heals wounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have now completely caught up to my editing. We're getting close to the end, but the last few chapters will be slower in coming because of that. There are some decently large things I want to do to them before putting them up.

It was well into October, and the chance to rebuild or even resupply was gone. It was far too late in the season to start new crops, even if anything would grow in the fields that had been burned by dragonfire. Whispers of hard winters and death were among the Men of Laketown when Bilbo and Thorin ventured out to find food. Thorin frowned, checking his steps, and moved off to find Bard.

“You and your people are welcome to winter in the Mountain with us,” he said gruffly. “I will have to purchase provisions for the Dwarves. Adding your people will not be a problem.”

Bard stared, obviously trying to reconcile the Dwarf leader with the one who had refused him aid only a few days earlier. Finally, he bowed, expressing agreement. And he held out the Arkenstone as a token of friendship.

Thorin took it, and his eyes cut over to Bilbo. The Hobbit was sure he was the only one who could read the equal parts triumph and terror in the Dwarf’s eyes, and he reached out to pluck the stone from Thorin’s hands. “When we rebuild Erebor, this should be put somewhere it can illuminate the whole kingdom,” he said. Smiling up at Thorin’s relief, he dropped the stone to nestle in his pocket next to the ring.

There was a clamor of cheers when the two leaders proclaimed their decision. Under it were displeased murmurs and suspicious looks from Dwarf and Man alike, but these were overwhelmed by the good wishes and cries of "Long live Thorin, king under the mountain! Long live Bard, lord of Dale!"

Thorin waved a hand. "None of that now," he said, glancing at Bard for back up. "We have no time, and I will not be a king until Erebor is safe. For our beautiful kingdom has been defiled by the dragon these many years. It will take all our efforts to clean it and ready it for habitation. When we are able to live there and not in tents in this valley, then we will celebrate and feast.”

Further, the Dwarfs who had been in his Company had their status raised above all others. For what was old blood to compare with the heart, strength, and loyalty of the army of twelve who had come to retake their home from a dragon? That brought grumbling from those who put more importance on their blood and safety, but who was going to gainsay Thorin son of Thrain son of Thror, who would be King Under the Mountain?

On the walk back to the tent where Fili and Kili waited for them, Bilbo heard his own name and saw eyes following him, some with awe and some with anger. It seemed his friends had started to spread the stories of his own place among the Dwarves, and not all thought that place was secure. He set the worry aside for the moment - he trusted his friends to take care of it. There was too much else for him to do.

“It was well done,” he told Thorin when they were finally alone, taking his lover’s face in his hands and kissing him. Thorin reached out to hold him close, and with soft kisses and gentle touches, they began to relearn each other.

There was much to do, and it all had to be done quickly, because winter would not wait for them to be ready. Thranduil sent cones of incense, and as the Dwarves cleared out the long halls and high ceilinged rooms of Erebor they lit the incense. And thus, the dragon was banished.

Food needed to be procured from the South and the East and the West. Timber and quarried stone needed to be haggled for for both Dwarves and Men, for the rebuilding of both Erebor and Dale. Two peoples needed to be tended and, for a short time, integrated into one.

Thorin spent his days busy with the same work that his people did, and through it earned the loyalty of young and old of all stations, and caused some of the grumbling to die down. Dwalin was always at his friend's back, and that had a tendency to cause talk to cease as well. 

Bilbo kept more to himself. He was present, and came when needed, but spent most of his time with Fili and Kili as they struggled to recover. This ran both ways, as some claimed that he felt above them and thus wasn't worth their good will while others pointed to his ceaseless care for the princes as a sign of his worth.

The first morning, Fili woke and shouted with pain. It was bright. He couldn’t see through the light. It pained him. Bilbo patted him, hanging over him in worry, and saw that his pupils were dilated. He wrapped a cloth around the Dwarf’s eyes as if he were blind, and he quieted.

Kili saw that and forced himself to his feet. He collapsed at the entrance to the tent and would not be moved. Through the day, he flatly refused to let any he didn’t know enter the tent and see his brother’s weakness. At the end of the day, Thorin had to pick him up like a baby to bring him back inside. He tried to protest, but the pain medicine caused him to fall asleep in his uncle's arms.

By the third day, Bilbo was so used to this that he created a nest of blankets for Kili, so that he would rest and be able to heal. But he needn’t have worried, for once. Kili was so upset about his brother that he didn’t object to his own treatment. Had it been only him, he would have demanded to be up within a week, but with Fili to worry over, he did all the things he was asked to.

After a week, the pain had died down enough that Bilbo was able to support Fili in slowly sitting up. Fili gripped his arm with shaking fingers and surveyed the tent with unfocused, glassy eyes.

“I’m scared, uncle,” he admitted in a soft, hoarse voice after Bilbo assured him Kili wasn’t near enough to hear him. There was little Bilbo could say to reassure him.

Snow came six weeks later, not long after Kili had his cast removed. The healers had wanted to wait until they were in Erebor to protect it from accidental damage during the move. Kili would have none of it, and harangued them until it was gone. In the evening, pressed up against Thorin’s side, he admitted that he felt weak. Thorin massaged the muscles of the arm gently and promised to help him recover.

Fili, by that time, could walk confidently along the valley floor. His vision was still blurred and doubled, but with his brother by his side he was able to fight the vertigo and present himself as the strong heir his uncle needed. He survived the climb into Erebor with as little help as he could, and only collapsed when led to the rooms that had been prepared for the royal family. Healers were pleased by his progress and assured him that his vision would completely recover with time.

They ate that first night amid laughter that was at the edge of hysterical and voices that rang too loud. The feasting hall and communal kitchens had been cleaned out first, with the idea that it would be easier to keep track of food supplies with it all in one place. Despite all the hard work they had all put in, Dwarves and Men eating together had a manic edge that could quickly turn to fighting.

Thorin and Bard, at the high table, did their best to set an example, and indeed, many eyes were turned in them. The word coronation reverberated around the room. The leaders rose quickly to put a stop to it. They didn't have proper clothes, Bard pointed out. Besides which, Thorin added, they had neither crowns nor jewels.

Here they were anticipated. The matrons and maids of Laketown had been busy in secret, fashioning new clothes, and the Dwarves had quietly brought together mail and jewels. So it wasn't morer than a fortnight later that the Kings of Erebor and Dale were crowned together in the mixed finery of Dwarves and Men. Bilbo watched the ceremony from the front of the crowd, smiling at the gentleness with which Thorin crowned Fili as his heir. He dropped to his knees with the others, swearing fealty and making the cavern ring with wishes for the long lives of the kings.

The feasting lasted long into the night. Bilbo was glad strong drink had been copious. Even though Fili had drunk none of it, it provided a plausible excuse why he had to lean on Kili to retire to their room. Laughter and good natured jeering followed instead of the quiet looks of judgement that would be there if they knew he was seeing double and couldn't stand on his own.

Bilbo had served his lover and nephews, and once Fili and Kili made their retreat he ghosted away in search of his own supper and the quiet of the kitchens. He heard the merry piping long before he reached them, and followed it to find Bofur playing for his brother as they got their own late supper. Bilbo smiled, realizing it had been a long time since he had seen his friends, and stepped into the firelight.

The two Dwarves gave him a warm welcome and set an extra place at their table. He asked after the rebuilding and they asked how their little princes were.

"They're recovering," Bilbo answered with a sigh. "You should come see them. Kili would let you in."

"Us?" Bombur asked, glancing up from his kettle and pans. "To what do we owe that honor?"

"He knows you. And why shouldn't you have that honor? You all have status now, and riches."

Bofur laughed, working the fingering on his flute. "You were offered a fourteenth share of treasure to secure your services," he said. "The rest of us just got first choice of treasures. The rest will go into the coffers or be distributed as our King decides."

"We're not badly off," Bombur put in, "but it's good that we all have trades."

It was something for Bilbo to consider as they ate, joining joyous toasts to their king, princes, and success. And as he left to collapse into sleep, he repeated that they and the others should visit Fili and Kili as they recuperated.

They took him at his word, and evenings in the princes’ room soon became as warm and comforting as some of the best nights on the road. Ori brought any book that had taken his fancy in his ramblings through the ruined libraries and read quietly to Fili. Fili sat and listened, more intent than he would previously have been due to his injuries, and as his eyes slowly healed he pored over the texts with Ori, to the other’s delight.

On the other side of the room, Dwalin and Gloin helped Kili exercise his arm, delighting as he regained full use of it over the course of the winter. They extended an invitation to FIli to join them, but the tremor in his hands rarely stilled and he grew easily impatient.

Bilbo raced to their room one day, hearing a crash and worrying that one of them was hurt. He found Fili curled on the floor, hair loose and bedraggled, eyes leaking tears. Kili kneeled in front of him, holding both of his brother's hands lightly between his own.

"I will be your strong right arm," he said softly. "When you are king, I will protect your kingdom."

"How can I be king if I can't even plait my own hair?" Fili demanded, shaking. " _Children_ can plait hair and all I can do is knot it."

Every line of Kili's body showed his despair, and Bilbo thought it was time to make his entrance. He shut the door silently, then knocked on it. By the time he opened it a moment later, they were both on their feet and Fili's eyes were dry.

"Isn't it time to dress and do your hair?" he asked lightly, bustling in to sit them down. "Although I can't say I know how you do it. My fingers would drop any of your braids in moments, even if I could see what I was doing."

Kili tried to catch his eye and shake his head, but Fili just frowned.

"Of course you could learn to plait, uncle. Kili, come here and I'll show him the Durin braid."

"They have meanings too?" Bilbo asked, widening his eyes as if he didn't know that already. "Then why doesn't Kili have any?"

"He should, now," Fili answered, waving him closer. "He did help kill a dragon. Is there a braid for that, do you think?"

Kili, catching on to what Bilbo was doing, just grinned. "You can design one, brother. And if you get anything to stay in my hair, you're better than mother is."

"If you sat still, it wouldn't be a problem," Fili snorted, deftly dividing a lock of hair into the appropriate segments for a braid.

Bilbo picked up a lock on the other side of Kili's head and made sure that his fingers fumbled at least as many times as Fili's as they filled the young Dwarf's head full of braids. Fili relaxed into the banter and practice, and his fingers grew steady enough to manage tight braids.

They kept up the practice, their friends joining in to show their own braids. Kili spent hours in the mornings grinning and protesting that he didn't want or need so many braids in his hair. But he never failed to be their model, and when Fili fixed his own braids without even thinking of it his smile stayed on through the whole day.

It was late in March when Bilbo walked into the princes’ room to find Kili and Ori talking excitedly and Fili sulking in a large chair.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Fili jerked a hand at the other two. “They leave in the morning for the Blue Mountains to bring the last of our people home. They will be away for most of a year!”

Kili looked up, momentarily unhappy, and Bilbo considered how infrequently the two had ever been apart. But Fili’s words brought him up short with a breathed out “Oh....”

He petted his nephew gently, but turned to the other two. “You leave in the morning? I hadn’t heard! Don’t worry, I’ll be ready.”

And as he fretted his way back to the rooms he shared with Thorin, he completely missed the looks of confusion and upset that passed between the three he left behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so Bilbo's late September birthday passed (unnoticed) in Laketown. It's been a few weeks, so October. Add around 7 weeks, and the first snow is apparently early December. Just for anyone keeping track.
> 
> And anyone interested in Fili: his vision made a more or less full recovery. He only has problems when over tired or under a lot of stress. His hands, however, have a more or less permanent tremor. When relaxed, it's less noticeable, but when he's thinking about it, or doing heavy or stressful tasks he has little control of them. He's never going to be a warrior king, and writing might be a bit of a chore as well. But at least he can braid his own hair!


	16. Traveling West

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bilbo goes back to Bag End

The three left in the morning on stout ponies, turning and waving to the ones left behind to ease the pain of parting. Bilbo in particular understood why Thorin and Fili had long faces watching them leave, but wished he could have left them with smiles.

Within an hour, the wind was blowing his hair in his face, and he had cause to understand why he’d never been a year without a haircut before. Letting go of the reins and resettling his weight in the saddle as he’d learned to do during the trip east, his fingers worked familiar braid shapes into both sides of his hair.

This earned him a bark of a laugh from Kili. “I knew it.”

“Knew what?”

“Our light fingered burglar not learning something like plaiting quickly? You were doing it for Fili.”

Bilbo was slightly flustered. “Was I that obvious?”

“Not to him,” Kili answered, eyes dropping with affection. His eyes cut over to Bilbo’s hair and he grinned again. “You almost look a proper Dwarf now,” he said. “Except for your lack of beard.”

“And thank goodness for that,” Bilbo said primly, which caused both Dwarves to set into gales of laughter.

On this trip, they were few and not secretive. They stuck to well traveled routes, and were able to move faster than a whole company of fourteen. They were not captured by anyone, nor did anyone ever try to kill them. It was refreshing that the only concern was that Kili and Ori seemed to cling to him closer as the days wore on.

To Bilbo’s surprise, it barely took them a month to reach the Shire. He found that he looked at it with new eyes of amazement - its green, rolling hills and round, small people were so different from the people and places around the Lonely Mountain. And the quiet Shirefolk eyed the returning wanderer with new suspicion, glaring at his Dwarf companions and narrowing their eyes at his braids.

Kili and Ori quieted as they arrived at Bywater. They stopped at the Green Dragon for a midday dinner, knowing that there would be no provisions at Bag End, and then continued the last short distance to Hobbiton, Kili and Ori growing more and more silent as Bilbo prattled about cleaning.

“How long until you return?” he asked.

Kili shrugged a bit despondently. “Three months, I figure. Maybe four.”

Bilbo nodded, thinking to himself. “Good. That’s good. I’ll be ready in that time. Don’t forget to leave me room on the pack wagons.”

The two Dwarves stared at him, something light rising behind their eyes. “You mean... you’re coming back?” Ori asked.

“Of course!” Bilbo answered. “Unless-- unless I’m not wanted...?”

Kili gave a whoop, ignoring the glares of bystanders as he leapt off his pony to pull Bilbo down and swing him in a circle.

“That’s enough, Kili,” Bilbo told him sternly, cheeks and ears pink. “Put me down. Your arm isn’t strong enough.”

“Yes, uncle!” Kili sang, face happier than it had been since they had left his brother behind. “Won’t that be a surprise for uncle Thorin! He thought you were coming back to the Shire to stay forever!”

“What!?” Bilbo exclaimed. “How could--? why would--? Oh, I should send him a note.... He’ll be so upset with me.” He wrung his hands unhappily.

“No no!” Kili answered irrepressibly. “You must remain a surprise. Just think! We’ll bring you and mother back together and uncle won’t know what to say!” His fingers hooked in Bilbo’s braids as he leaned down for one last enthusiastic hug. “We’ll be back by the middle of August at the latest.”

Bilbo stayed by the door to wave them off, and it was a much more cheerful departure than the last one he had been involved in.

Leaving the pony to pasture in the yard and on top of the Hill, Bilbo pushed his door open and entered the hole for the first time in a year. Despite the layer of dust, it looked remarkably undisturbed. He felt a cautious hope that his things would still be there.

He knew he would need to write a number of letters, so in all practicality he needed to go to his writing desk first. Ink and pens were easily found, but he had to search the whole desk for paper. In his search he discovered three writing boxes and stared at them in mystification. Why would he ever need three...?

Oh. He never had gotten rid of his parents' writing boxes, had he? He sank into the chair with a puff of dust, feeling his mood lower. 

Finally finding paper, he shook himself out of his funk and wrote the letters. When he went to post them, there were so many youngsters hanging around that he was able to send one running with a coin to bring them directly to the office.

He went back to his desk, looking at the collected items now scattered across the top. He wouldn't need all of it. Ink and pens, yes. He could put any writing tools he needed in his writing box. And the other two...

Ori would like one, he thought wistfully. But then he paused. Why shouldn't Ori have one? They had saved his life, given him friendship, taken him into their hearts and home, and he hadn't given them anything. He had been hired for the quest, so assisting in the defeat of Smaug didn't count.

Yes, he decided, he would bring gifts for all of them. A second writing box joined the one he was bringing with him.

He crossed the hall to his pantries and stared. In short order, one of the older girls loitering at his front door was sent with a handful of gold to procure him four month's worth of food provisions.

Shaking his head over the wreck of the pantries, Bilbo turned his attention to himself. He pulled off the Dwarven travel clothes and treated himself to a long, hot bath, before dressing in good Hobbit clothes. They were a trifle loose on him, and he had cause to think of the weight he had lost and the muscle he had gained in the last year.

Perhaps some of his older clothes would fit better. He started searching through all of his closets, walking to the backs of some of them for the first time he could remember. He found clothes going back to his infancy, things that had to have been his father's, and then things of his mother's.

Oh, how had he lived here alone for so long? He buried his face in her favorite shawl, and felt tears pricking his eyes.

Banishing his dark mood, Bilbo gathered clothes in wide swathes, throwing them out of closets and into the long hall of Bag End. In the days to come, he would bring most of it down to the homes on Bagshot Row, because they had plenty of wear left in them. 

Forcing himself into ruthlessness, he flung all of his mother's and father's things toward the door, stopping only when his fingers slipped over the smooth feel of silk. He didn't need his father's best silk handkerchiefs. He had plenty of his own. But perhaps Dori would like them. He set them aside.

And his mother's shawl. He couldn't bring himself to let it go, even though he had no use for it. It went in the much smaller pile of clothes he was going to keep.

It was evening by the time he finished, and the doorbell was rung by a contingent of grocers, butchers, and bakers with the food he had purchased. He thanked them, and closed the door firmly after the food was delivered.

Four months of food? It would have fed the entire company for at least one. It hadn’t previously occurred to him how different his eating habits had become. He searched the pantries while he restocked them with the new food, making sure that any odds and ends that the Dwarves had missed were properly disposed of. Squirreled away in a dark corner, were a trio of bottles the Dwarves had somehow missed during their party.

And how glad he was that they had! It was strong apple brandy that he kept for special occasions. He opened one of the bottles, taking a bracing drink straight from the neck before closing it again. Yes, he was glad they had missed the bottles, but he wished they could share it with him now. He eyed the bottles, trying to decide if they would survive the trip if he wrapped them carefully in his clothes.

By the time all of the food was stored, he was tired from the long journey and didn’t even make a meal before retiring to the bed he’d spent so much time missing. It was well worth missing, he decided, snuggling down into the goose down pillows and duvet. But despite his exhaustion, it took a long time for him to fall asleep.

He hadn’t slept alone in so long. Even on the road back, the three of them had saved money by renting out a single room to share at the inns, and laid their bedrolls close together when there was no inn to be found. How had he managed to stand it for six years? The time until August seemed interminable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hah! No one thought he was going home to stay, right? I was really only Thorin and the Dwarves who had that misunderstanding, right?


	17. In the Shire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bilbo takes care of business

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, guys, I have added 12 pages to this thing since starting to post it! What the heck?
> 
> Two more chapters to go, or really one chapter and an end coda.

The days quickly settled into a kind of pattern. He woke early, breakfasted, spent the morning sorting his possessions, dined, spent the afternoon talking with neighbors or taking long walks to visit relatives, supped, and spent the evening smoking and thinking about Erebor.

It was strange how much things changed. He had spent most of the journey east wishing he were in Bag End, and now that he was finally there he couldn’t wait to leave again. His concept of home had changed, and he couldn’t find it in him to wish that it hadn’t. He wouldn’t trade Fili and Kili’s enthusiasm and antics for all of the cousins he had in the Shire. Wouldn’t trade the majestic halls of Erebor for the snug rooms of Bag End. Wouldn’t trade his nights with Thorin for the comforts of goose down if it couldn’t be shared.

He’d had to pare down his library horribly. There were only so many books he could bring. Some of the ones he had to leave behind he would stack to store in the hopes that they could be sent along later. Others were given to family. He had saved one of the few books about Dwarf lore - one he had skimmed through and found to be least made of gossip and rumors - for Gloin and his son. And he had spent three days poring over his maps to decide which of them Balin would like the best.

He went to market two weeks later. It was all well and good to have his cold storage filled with excellent cuts of meat and the pantries full of chutneys, jams, and preserves, but nothing beat fresh vegetables. It was the time for new potatoes, peas, and parsley, and he hadn't wanted to cook this badly in months.

A young girl in the market tugged at his pant leg and he crouched down.

"Your braids are pretty," the girl said. "Mama said I shouldn't say about them, but I don't know why. Will you braid mine?"

Bilbo smiled and gave her princess braids. At least that's what Oin had joked they were when he had shown Bilbo how to make them. He might have been teasing Kili, the perpetual model, and certainly his sputtering had made the old Dwarf smile. It made Bilbo smile now as he finished the braids with the leather ties Ori had provided when he started braiding his own hair.

The girl thanked him as she ran off and Bilbo rose to his feet, waving after her. The market, when he turned again, seemed to have all its attention on him. Every eye was disapproving. He took a deep breath, raised his head, and strode confidently to the stall he was after. After all, it wasn't like they would refuse his money.

Bombur’s and Oin’s gifts were decided when he went through the kitchen that evening. He was bringing his cookbooks with him, of course, especially the one written by his grandmother and great grandmother Baggins over a period of years. But many of his cookbooks he knew off by heart. He thought Bombur would like them. And among the herbs and spices he was carefully laying by were several varieties of tea that he thought would do well for Oin.

Bilbo's cousin Sigismond Took was the one who brought the barrel of pipeweed up from the South Farthing. Bilbo was pleased. They were of an age, and until Sigismond began courting they had been close. They still fell to chatting easily, sharing Sigismond's pouch because Bilbo wasn't ready to open the barrel yet.

"Uncles all had stories to tell, didn't they?" Sigismond asked, waiting for Bilbo's hum of response before continuing. "You should come down to Tuckborough. I daresay we're better company than the gossips of Hobbiton."

Bilbo looked over and smiled at him. Rekindling family ties here would be good. It was only early May, and family would help the time go faster.

Bofur was as easy to think of as his brother. Bilbo had already decided he was bringing pipeweed and one of his pipes with him. It took no extra room to share the weed, and little more to add another pipe. 

The visit lasted less than a week. The day after Bilbo got back to Bag End he spent the entire morning in bed. He listened to the commerce on the street and found himself wishing to hear boots. Gossipy housewives prattled on their way to market, their voices sounding too high and shrill.

Rhoda Took had come from a family whose name she had been happy to slough off. Sigismond loved her, and her children were sweet, but Aldegrim said she was ashamed of the Tooks. Uncle Hildebrand would never have approved.

She had tried to cut his hair! Even now, safely solitary, Bilbo's fingers wound into his braids. The Durin braid on one side - Kili had insisted - and a lover's sign on the other. The things that tied him to his new family, and she had tried to destroy them because they weren't Hobbitish.

He buried his head under the pillows, understanding the loss on Fili and Thorin's faces when he and Kili had left Erebor.

He had spent the winter wishing for softer pillows for Filli’s broken head, and tucking a pair of down pillows around the bottles of brandy was no problem at all. He chuckled, folding a second duvet to give to Kili. The pair would share the gifts, no doubt. He was sure that for months after they returned home the brothers would never be seen out of sight of one another.

By June, the hole was starting to feel vacant. It was still fully furnished and had more food than Bilbo would be able to eat by August, but with cleaned out closets and bare bookshelves, he was emptying it of memories. There were few paintings he wanted to keep, and most of the brik-a-brak was useless to him. He had gathered much of it in the sitting room when a sparkle caught his eye.

He smiled to pick up one of the shiny pebbles he had brought his mother from his rambling tween wanders. He gathered them all in his hands, prepared to dump them out the window and into the garden, when he thought that maybe Nori would like them. He liked shiny things, especially ones he could weave stories around. He dropped them in a linen pouch and set them with the other presents.

Hamfast Gamgee, the young cousin and apprentice of the gardener, stopped cleaning up to admire Bilbo's smoke rings in midsummer's eve.

Bilbo smiled at the boy. "Just testing the new barrel," he said.

The boy nodded. "Our dad does that when there's a new one," he offered, handkerchief moving over his hands again. Bilbo smiled to recognize his father's monogram still on one corner. The boy was struggling with a question, and Bilbo just puffed away while he waited. "Did you really see Elves and Men?" he burst out.

Bilbo chuckled. "And a lot more besides. I'll tell you, Master Ham, there is no other land quite as green and beautiful as the Shire."

"If that's so, why are you still so strange?" the boy asked without thinking. He checked himself instantly, reddening to the tips of his ears, and ran for Bagshot Row.

He thought of Bifur as he sorted his bath supplies. Despite his fearsome appearance, or perhaps because of it, Bifur had a deep appreciation of all things soft and beautiful. Two bars of almond and apple scented soap joined the pile of gifts along with his own scrubs and soaps.

It was the middle of July by the time Drogo showed up at his door.

“Where have you been all this time?” Bilbo asked, brows raised. I wrote you in April.”

The young adult blushed. “I was busy,” he stuttered.

Bilbo gave him a tolerant smile, something he’d had a chance to perfect with Fili and Kili. And showing that he had far more understanding than previously, he answered “She’s only just in her tweens, cousin. Best not let Gorbadoc hear you talking.”

Drogo’s eyes widened, and his blush spread up to his ears.

“And yet, you’ll need a home, won’t you,” Bilbo continued, voice soft as if he were talking to himself. “To show Gorbadoc Brandybuck that you can provide for his Primula.” He touched a hand to the door frame, then looked back at his cousin. “Would you like Bag End?”

“Really? You really are leaving? We’d all wondered since you came home so strange.” Drogo clapped a hand over his mouth, ashamed of what he had said.

Bilbo smiled softly, fingering braids in hair far longer than a Hobbit man ever grew it. “Strange? Yes, I suppose. I can’t stay here anymore. But I won’t leave Bag End to those that wouldn’t love it as my parents did. I think you will. And I think you and Primula will turn it into the home it should be.” His grin widened into one Kili would have been proud of. “In fifteen years, when she’s of age.”

“She’ll be of age in twelve,” Drogo muttered rebelliously.

“I doubt her father will see it that way,” Bilbo answered, ushering his cousin inside to read and sign the paperwork that had been waiting for months.

And so it was down to Dwalin and Thorin, and they were the hardest to decide on gifts for. What was a proper gift to say “Thank you for teaching me about sex?” he wondered. In the end he decided with a sigh that one of the bottles of brandy would be Dwalin’s.

It was the first of August. Bilbo was having a quiet smoke by his front door when Lobelia Sackville-Baggins approached and slapped him so hard that his pipe went flying. He was on his feet in an instant, braids swinging, and it was a good thing that Sting was inside. A dangerous quest and life with Dwarves had made him quick to draw.

"Bag End should rightfully come to us when you leave!" Lobelia snapped at him. "Otho is your own first cousin! Son of your father's brother. What is Drogo Baggins? Just a second cousin! That's nothing!"

"My father built this hole for my mother," Bilbo answered with a glare. "It rightfully goes to whoever I say it does. And Drogo is far more than you, self righteous gossip that you are!"

Lobelia looked shocked and Bilbo had a moment to realize that he had never been so discourteous to a relative before.

"Going off on mad quests and coming back crazy and disrespectful," she answered with a sneer. "And if Drogo is to be believed, you found a wife in foreign parts. Not enough of a man to bring her back and give her a ring and a wreath, are you, Bilbo Baggins?"

Before he could answer, she had tipped her nose in the air and swept off down the road. Hands shaking anger, he picked up his pipe and entered Bag End.

But Thorin.... He wanted to crown him with flowers. But Dwarves were crowned with gold and jewels, and neither Thorin nor his people would appreciate a wreath of flowers.

No, Dwarves gave everlasting gold and gems to their loves and wouldn't appreciate flowers that died. Thorin had given him everything, and Bilbo couldn't think of how he could reciprocate it.

So he found himself opening his mother’s jewel box, the last piece of his family in the hole. There was her string of salt water pearls. He ran them through his fingers, thinking that they would be a rarity in the Mountain, no matter that the Blue Mountains where so many of them had lived in exile was nearer the coast than the Shire. He dug deeper, past her bracelets and necklaces. The gold and stones in them would make Dwarves think he was cheap and had no love for the one who meant everything to him. He would leave them for Drogo to give Primula.

At the bottom of the box was what he wanted to see. Wrapped with a dried flower were the wedding rings his parents had worn in life. His mother had taken the ring from his father’s finger when he died, and handed her own to Bilbo on her deathbed. Her hope was that he would share them with the love of his own life.

They were too small, of course. Neither would fit Thorin’s fingers. But the point was that it was a wedding band. A sign of marriage, and a symbol of two lives intertwined forever. He wrapped the cloth over them again and gently lifted them out of the box.

And then his breath caught as he saw what was under them. He pulled out the strand, the movement causing the wooden beads to clack. He counted them, as he had as a child. Forty. One for every year they had been married, made yearly until his father died.

Oh yes. He wasn’t the only one who wanted to give flowers in a time and place where flowers weren’t found. His father’s gift of love to his mother: hand carved beads, painted in all of her favorite flowers and strung together to wear in her hair on their anniversary in winter. They were large enough to be seen through her curls. Bilbo ran his fingers through his own hair and thought they would be large enough to use in braids.

Oh yes. He could gift his love as a proper Hobbit, even across the mountains and surrounded by outsiders who would not understand. His hands tightened around the beads and he cried, as he hadn’t in years, for the memory of his parents. He cried for the fact that he had been too numb to cry for all those years and had finally broken free of the prison of respectable, even tempered emotional death.

And he cried because his parents, who would never meet Thorin, who would never have expected their son to love a Dwarf, and who might not have condoned him loving a male, had left him the only true way he could show the depth of his love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nori likes shiny things that he can make stories about because that makes it easier to get people's money where it really belongs - in his pockets.
> 
> Drogo was just 33 that year!
> 
> And as to the question about Dwalin, it is a serious one. What is the proper way? Is there a greeting card?


	18. Going Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which lots of Dwarves and one Hobbit travel east.

Scarcely a day later, Ori drove up to his door with a wagon. He hadn't been so glad to see anyone since they had gone in April. After giving his friend a hug of welcome, earning dark looks from the neighbors he was leaving behind, Bilbo helped him haul boxes into the wagon and climbed onto his pony. He didn’t look back as they made their way out of Hobbiton to join the caravan of Erebor’s Dwarves.

The caravan was a large one. With Thorin there, the Blue Mountains were home to the largest contingent of displaced Erebor. They all looked at Bilbo and Ori arriving, and Bilbo felt uneasy at the heavy, assessing stares. Ori and Kili had obviously been talking about him, and he wasn’t sure he lived up to their words.

“Uncle!”

Bilbo twisted around at the sound to see Kili with one arm around a Dwarf who someone less well acquainted with Dwarves would be excused for thinking was Thorin’s brother. Indeed, the hair was as dark, the eyes as penetrating, the beard as neatly trimmed. And in trousers for travel, it was easy to see how strongly Kili took after the line of Durin.

Kili came to Bilbo’s side long enough to swing him off his pony and give him a large hug. The expressions around them reminded Bilbo of the busybodies in the Shire, so he gave a quick embrace in return and shooed him away. These were his people now, and he wanted their good opinion as much as he had ever wanted the respect of those in Hobbiton.

Grin large enough to split his face, Kili returned to where he had been, dragging the other Dwarf forward. “Uncle, allow me to present the Princess Dis, of the line of Durin.” The pride in his voice was undeniable, and in this way, too, he looked like his mother.

Bilbo gave a respectful bow, hoping that he would pass the inspection of his beloved’s sister. 

With the fondly exasperated look that Kili drew from all who knew him, Dis returned his hug and then pushed him away. “Go make sure everyone is ready to go,” she instructed.

“Yes, mother,” Kili answered, sweeping her a deep bow and deftly dodging a blow to the head. He laughed as he left them, winking at Bilbo as he moved by.

Dis looked at him, and Bilbo remembered the same imperious stare from Thorin the first time they had met. It rankled more than a bit, as he thought he’d changed enough during the journey to not deserve it anymore.

“Well?” he demanded after a moment, tired of waiting.

There was a slight upturning of her lips, and her eyes moved beyond him. “I had thought,” she answered, “that the journey would turn them to adults, if they survived it.”

Bilbo shrugged a little awkwardly. “It did,” he answered. “I’m glad there’s still enough child left in Kili for you to not see the difference.”

The assessing look was back, and Bilbo squared his shoulders and looked back.

“He holds you in high regard, Halfling,” Dis said finally. “As does Ori. I would learn more of you. And I would know more about why he calls you uncle.”

Bilbo decided that this called for Hobbit candor and not Dwarf subtlety and took a deep breath. Looking her square in the eye, he said, “Princess Dis of the line of Durin, your brother Thorin, King Under the Mountain, has given me his heart. And I have given him mine.”

There was a long moment before she answered him, and he had a hard time keeping his resolution to remain calm. Then she nodded once, mouth tipping into a smile more real, one that reminded him of Fili. “If you are like this all the time, he deserves you,” she said. “I am not demonstrative as my sons, but I welcome you, Bilbo Baggins, brother.”

The relief in his heart almost took his legs out from under him, and he returned the smile with the most happiness he had felt since Ori and Kili had left him at Bag End in April.

That seemed to be what everyone was waiting for. Bilbo was suddenly surrounded by smiles as Dwarves crowded to introduce themselves. He was overwhelmed by numbers, and looked at them all with a polite, half hysterical smile. Dis and Kili came to his rescue, pushing the Dwarves back to their places in the wagon train and telling them it was time to go.

They rode up to greet him in smaller numbers after that. They all wanted him to know their names and tell them stories of the quest and their loved ones. He frowned, looking over toward Kili and Ori, nudging each other and laughing on the seat of a wagon.

"Didn't you hear stories already?" he asked Gloin's son.

The young Dwarf shrugged. "Who knows what's true that comes out of Kili's mouth," he answered.

"But Ori. You can't say he isn't honest."

"He won't tell stories until he finishes his saga and he wouldn't say anything against Kili's stories. Kili must have some hold on him."

"Perhaps half right," Dis said, joining the conversation. "Tell me, my new brother, how my eldest fares. It isn't like them to be apart and Kili would say nothing."

Bilbo thought a long moment, glancing at the pair questioning him. How much made the perfect ballad and how much would hurt them? What should they know before reaching home? Quietly, so much so that the two ponies drew closer to hear, he began telling them of the battle before Erebor.

In the next three months, this journey being steady and on good roads, but far slower than the journey of three lightly burdened, he told many stories. Some were greeted with laughter, others with tears or anger. Only a few were disbelieved. And even those brought noises from Kili, glad to have corroboration from someone who had not been there when he told the stories the first time.

In that time, many of the Dwarves began to turn to him for advice and orders as much as to Dis. He worried at first that she would be offended, but she reminded him that he had the status of her brother. Of the two of them, he was the one who should be running the caravan. His expression at that made her laugh, and the easy good humor between them remained steady. As time went by, she helped him learn the diplomatic ways to keep Dwarves happy and his appreciation for what was expected of him grew along with his ability.

The last week of the journey had everyone moving faster and taking shorter breaks. They had been traveling for a long time, but they were so close to the goal that they were even sorry to have to stop to sleep. 

A few days from the gates, Kili spurred on ahead so that everyone would be ready for their arrival. Bilbo wished he were going as well, both wishing for and dreading reuniting with Thorin after so long. At the same time, he found himself having to reassure the Dwarves around him that they would be warmly welcomed.

At last they were in sight of the gates. It seemed like all the Dwarves of Erebor were there to see the last of the exiles home. Among them and at the front, Bilbo recognized all of his friends from the company, Thorin shading his eyes to scan the crowd. Kili and Fili were shoulder to shoulder and even from a distance, Bilbo could see Kili pointing to Dis and himself. He wanted to raise an arm to wave, but wasn’t sure it would be deemed appropriate.

Remembering the misunderstanding, he drew back, unsure what his welcome would be. Dwarves lost their hearts only once. Thorin had told him so. But first he had stolen th Arkenstone, and now he had disappeared - forever, as far as Thorin knew. Could their love really overcome this most reent obstacle?

He was lost in his own worries and merely followed Dis carelessly, not noting when they actually arrived at Erebor’s gates. Not until he was lifted from his pony by strong arms and crushed against Thorin’s chest. His arms strained around Thorin in return, and tears pricked his eyes while he wondered why he was forever questioning what didn’t need to be questioned.

After a long moment, they became aware of the cheering and jeering of the Dwarves around them and pulled back to arm’s length. Bilbo looked up into Thorin’s eyes and felt he was drowning.

“I’m home,” he said softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Use this image to picture Dis. http://bellsandbones.tumblr.com/image/39939280315


	19. Symbols of the Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a private commitment is held.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is tiny, but I just have to leave you with one more mental image. And fluff. Life is not complete without fluff.
> 
> Thank you all for reading and for your kind words. I didn't expect to get anywhere near this level of response to my writing! You have all made me very happy and I love every one of you.

They were up until late, sitting together in the family room of the royal suite. Dis wanted to hear everything, Thorin wanted to hear everything, Fili and Kili sat together in one large chair and chattered at them, and Bilbo was content to listen. He smiled the whole time, glad to be back in Erebor with his beloved family.

He must have been dozing, because he missed Dis’ question and it was the rumble of Thorin’s voice that woke him.

“The air vents have all been cleaned. That is a necessity. But heat is still changeable throughout the mountain.”

“Well, then,” Dis answered in her practical tones. “I am sure there is someone in Dale who makes coats. We certainly have enough money to finally get a new one.”

Bilbo looked up from his place in Thorin’s arms and gave a little “oh” of surprised thought. “I have-- I mean, if you want.... But it’s probably not proper....”

There was laughter and Thorin smoothed a hand down his back. “Soft and collect yourself,” he instructed.

Bilbo, much as he enjoyed the touch, pursed his lips up at Thorin and wriggled out from under his arm. He went to his boxes, knowing which one to open, and buried his fingers in thick, warm wool.

He stood again, arms hugged tight to his chest, and approached Dis. “This was my mother’s,” he told her, voice soft, eyes cast down. “It was her favorite. I couldn’t leave it with the rest. I-- She would be honored if you would find it useful to you now.” He held out the shawl, bright and warm, and so large for a Hobbit that it would fit a Dwarf quite well.

Dis rose and took his chin in her hand. Meeting her eyes was just as intense as meeting Thorin’s. But after a moment she smiled at him and threw the shawl around her shoulders. “I should be glad to honor your mother this way,” she said to him.

His return smile was blinding.

“This isn’t fair,” Fili said after a long moment. Once he had all the attention, he leaned forward and continued. “You have a gift for mother, but none for us?”

His face was pouting, but there was a twinkle in his eye and a lightness in his tone to show he was joking. Bilbo was quite pleased when he changed it to surprise by stating simply that he had gifts for everyone.

“Even me?” Kili asked, eyes wide and looking younger than ever.

“Of course even you,” Bilbo answered indulgently. “It wouldn’t be everyone if it didn’t include you.” He dug into the box of presents to pull out pillows and duvet, and the young Dwarves exclaimed over them and hugged them close, enjoying their squishy warmth.

“What did you get everyone else?” Kili asked, trying to sneak past Bilbo and poke in the box.

Bilbo pushed him away firmly. “I think they have a right to see their own gifts first, Master Kili,” he said sternly. His eyes strayed to Thorin and his cheeks reddened.

“It is time for bed,” Dis broke in, eyes darting between Thorin and Bilbo, obviously realizing that they hadn't had a moment alone since the caravan had arrived that afternoon.

“Mother, we aren’t children!” Kili answered, sounding like a petulant child.

She took him by the arm and moved to place a hand on Fili’s head. “No, but I have had no time with both my lads in a very long time.” The love and pride that blazed from two pairs of young eyes made her smile. “So let’s leave your uncles alone.”

The lovers looked at each other a long moment after they were alone.

“I thought you had taken my soul and left,” Thorin said.

“How-- I couldn’t do it when you threw me away,” Bilbo protested. He continued in a softer voice. “But you have given me all of Erebor, and I have given you nothing until now.” He climbed back to his place against Thorin’s side, hands cupped together. “Now I have something that will keep you from doubt again.”

He leaned in, opening his hands to show the gift and explain it.

The next morning, the King Under the Mountain went to his first audience with clacking wooden beads holding his braids and a greater look of contentment than any had seen on him in months.


End file.
